Ice Wine
by Adar
Summary: Nikita Simmons is an artistic manager in an up and coming art gallery in New York City. With the appearance of a potential client, she will be thrown into a world of intrigue she never knew existed. Some truths will be uncovered, and Nikita will learn the truth about where she came from.
1. Chapter 1

The room was crawling with every important business person imaginable in the artistic world. From auctioneers to the artists themselves, all were wandering around, peering at the various displays of art. Dressed in elaborate clothing, glasses of champagne in one hand, petites amuses geules in the other, most were making small talk while hoping to make hopeful business partners for future dealings. Everyone was making it an issue to be polite, some of their mannerisms forced. Being a manager to some of the artists whose works were being displayed this evening at the gallery, it was my job to be welcoming, and search for new talent. As for fake smiles and pleasant compliments, I had had my share, and had become accustomed to such masks worn by the general community present in this large room. The actual room had been greatly decorated, and had smaller adjacent rooms breaking off to the sides, all containing more works of art. The walls an egg shell white were a great contrast to the polished hard wood floor. The large Louis IV windows were what truly gave the area its charm and beauty, along with the wine red curtains, some of which had been pulled close to keep the night lights of New York city out, and the bright regulated lights as well as the room temperature regulated. The atmosphere being regulated at fourteen degrees celcius was important for it was what kept the paintings intact and fresh looking.

Holding a champagne flute between my slender fingers, my eyes were kindly smiling at the eager middle aged man in front of me. A potential client? No, but a potential buyer. With my award winning smile, and bleach white teeth, I nodded emphatically at the gentleman before me as he lapsed on about his latest buy. An original Piccaso, or so he claimed, was what he had spent the last couple of years searching. Taking a sip of my beverage, I averted my gaze off to the side where an elderly woman stood staring at a Monet inspired oil painting. Returning my firm gaze to the man, I apologized for my sudden distraction, and that I had thought to have seen someone I knew. The man smiled, and continued where he had last stopped, something about looking to invest in something different.

"I want to turn away from cubism. I'm looking for something more...more..." he stumbled along his words, searching for the right terminology.

"Down to earth?" I offered, tilting my head to the side. Nodding enthusiastically, he grinned.

"That's it! My wife Charlotte loves these nature scenes, and I was thinking of perhaps purchasing one for her birthday."

"Well Mr. Smith, I assure you that you will most likely find something to your liking in this exposition. The theme this evening is wilderness" Smiling yet again, I excused myself, and made my way over to the elderly woman standing near to the Monet styled work. The conversation took on the same colours as the first, except this time it was not a wife, but a granddaughter going off to university, first time away from home, and the grandparents wanting to offer something as a going away present. Thoughtful was the only word that came to mind at that exact moment.

My business partner smiled from across the room, giving me an encouraging thumbs up. Carol, always uplifting and encouraging was she herself, stuck between a rock and hard place. Instead of trying to settle a deal, she was more like trying to sort out a dispute between a young rich couple. I gave her a sympathetic look. 'You look great' she mouthed from her corner. Smiling, I mouth a thank you. My choice of dress had indeed been nice, but appropriate all the same for the event. The black knee length cocktail dress had screamed at me from behind a clothes rack at Macy's earlier that morning. Sleeveless and with a decent v-neck, it was enough to set any young man's blood on fire, especially with the low back. Just when I was about to pass another mouthed comment to my partner in crime, her mouth gaped open, and she made a decent head jerking motion to my right. Turning, I noticed for the first time, the man standing near a particular small painting in one of the smaller rooms. Despite his back facing me, I had no doubt as to whom this man might be. Longish raven hair that reached past his shoulders, broad shoulders, slim waist...

"Mr. Danvers, I am so glad you could make it this evening" I said, my hand shaking his. His dark fathomless eyes stared into mine, practically emotionless except for a small glint to them. Almond in shape, probably a hint of his lineage are what gave him an almost impish look, creating an exotic flare about him.

"My schedule cleared up" he nodded grimly.

"It is a real shame we were unable to have any of your works on display. They are quite remarkable"

"Thank you"

"So what do you think of these wolves?" I motioned to the one he had been peering at for some time. His gaze became intense as he stared at every brush stroke. After a few minutes of examination, he responded.

"The painting itself is well presented, but there are some essentials that are either missing, or simply not well orchestrated"

"What do you mean?"

"Ms. Simmons, have you ever seen a wolf before?" I stared up at him, his height towering over my smaller frame. I nod. "Have you ever seen one in motion, the look in its eyes, the intrigue?"_ Sort of like what you are Mr. Danvers_, I ponder,_ an intrigue_.

"Not exactly Mr. Danvers. I'm a city girl, and you must therefore excuse my slight ignorance" I manage to grin. He nods curtly.

"The expression is wrong"

"If you are ever interested in actually having any type of art work on display, please, I would love to be informed" Smiling yet again, I make my way into the main room again to recommence my small talk with more potential clients.

***

My hands caressed the clay in front of me, watching it as it took form. A wisp of auburn hair falling into my eyes, I blow at it in frustration. Tugging at the clay I work at it until I get the shape I so desire. I have no clue as to what may have inspired me, but I knew that after last night's stressing event, I needed to relax, and what better than to create pottery. Except, what was supposed to be a vase, had turned into something completely different. I front of my slightly trembling hands was a medium sized sculpture of a wolf cub, staring up with curious filled eyes. What was shocking was the intensity of the gaze, the accuracy, as if there truly lay some sort of life behind those immobile eyes. The phone rang, I jumped. Whipping my hands on my stained shirt I often used while painting or sculpting, I sat on one of the arm rests on my couch, and pick up the phone from its receiver. The voice was soft and soothing, with a Zen-like quality to it. Pressing on a button, I let the door downstairs in the apartment building buzz open. Hastily, I made my way over to stare into a mirror. Auburn hair tied up messily into a knot that practically sat on top of my head, bright winter green eyes, a multicolored stained button down shirt, and a pair of jean shorts... lovely. I looked like a disaster. Then came a sudden rap at the door. Turning the knob, I stared up at my visitor.

"Mr. Danvers, how ever did you find my home? You might want to be careful, or I might think you are trying to stalk me"

"A source was helpful in aiding me scout you out" he replied, eyes searching my face.

"Well, come on in. I can't have you standing in my doorway for the neighbors to see" letting him in, I closed the door behind him. Motioning to my couch, he waited for me to sit down before he took a seat before me on a salmon colored couch. "So why exactly are you here Mr. Danvers?"

"The job proposition, were you being sincere?" I stared in shock, eyes widened slightly.

"Sir, if I were someone else in my current field of work, I might feel insulted by your lack of faith in me. I would assume you to believe me worthy of trust after all the works I have created and organized that are listed in my portfolio at the main office"

"You must understand my concern Ms. Simmons. It was my sister who first directed me towards you. I have never expected anything to come out of my work. To me it is just a hobby. When she told me that I should sell, I had a difficult time believing that my artistic abilities were of such a caliber. Needless to say, when she referred me to you, I felt somewhat uneasy. I have never met you before, but only heard snippets of your grandeur. Your works are known throughout the state of New York, Maine and Vermont. Yet, you have so many clients, and I do not sell my works, preferring to keep them. It is said that you tend to be quite frivolous, jumping from one job offer to the next, depending on which one is the most intriguing"

"Let me get this straight for you. I go where I see there is potential and where I judge there is enough for me to work with. The work also must be of high quality if not there are few chances of working with me. I would also like to add that I may have many clients, but once I give my word, I always hold it. I have seen your work Mr. Danvers through my own sources, and let me assure you, you are one of a kind. Your works are truly amazing. Not many can do what you do" I stated, arms crossed over my chest, eyes boring into his. "If you are truly interested in seeing your works exposed in a gallery, then I will see to it that they will. If not, you are wasting your time as well as my own"

"My sister, she is a friend of yours, no?" he asked, peering up at me from behind long lashes. Nodding, I tilt my head to the side in thought.

"Christine Danvers?" I ask, my attention returning to his ever calm stance. Nodding, what could be deemed a grin tugged at his solemn facial expression "She is a well known business partner of mine. We have worked together in the past and have even shared a glass of wine or two"

"She assured me that you were worthy of trust. I do not seek to sell my works Ms. Simmons, I desire only to participate in an exhibition from time to time. Christine deems it fit that I throw my name into the onslaught of the everyday torrent of society" Advancing to the edge of my seat, I gently place my hands on his clasped ones.

"Mr. Danvers, if you so wish, it would be an honor for me to take care of you and your creations"

* * *

I hope you have enjoyed a little taste of what is to come. I do not own any of Kelly Armstrong's characters except for my own despite my great appreciation for her books. Please do review and let me know what you think of this story so far despite it only being chapter 1.

Adar


	2. Chapter 2

Sighing in frustration, I let my head fall onto my desk in exasperation. There were two types of clients in the world: 1) the snotty kind or 2) the humble ones. For some reason, this morning's appointments and phone calls were a series of snotty artists who were very particular on how they wanted to present their work and when I would actually manage to see it. The ongoing debates between artist, manager, and exhibition halls went back and forth for a minimum of five hours before I managed to unplug my phone from the wall. Potential and interested buyers who frequented our part of town sent hundreds of phone calls and fifty letters per day. I keep telling myself that over the years things will smooth out with experience. It has been three years since Carol and I opened up our art gallery under the guidance of Dan, giving birth to a fast climbing chain of galleries. We are still waiting for things to become easier.

Despite the hardships, Dan had always been there to guide us. He was a successful artist who had to put his career on hold due to severe arthritis. With us, he opened up our first of three galleries in New York City. However, Dan was more than a great boss and mentor, he was like a grandfather to both Carol and I. Dan discovered me through one of my exhibitions at the university. He was a blessing from the start. We discussed art for the entire evening, and he was the first person to buy a piece of my artwork. Afterwards, he followed my progression very closely. He came to every art exhibition, every art unfolding, and every gala. When I graduated, Dan invited me to join his vision. He wanted to open up an art gallery that did more than sell artwork. It was also meant to be a safe place for artists to go to. Having a secure place to go to as an artist is primordial.

Slowly, I rotated my shoulders and inhaled deeply. If it were not for Dan and Carol, I do not know where I would be. It is on difficult days like these I remember the nasty comments my parents gave me when I told them I wanted to go to art school. I do not think they ever appreciated the fact I was not interested in health sciences. For them, an artist was someone who struggled through life and made little money to be able to sustain him/herself. In the end, I majored in fine arts with a minor in business. When Dan and I were getting ready we noticed the need for an expert in business and management. That is when I thought of my best friend Carol. I count my lucky stars for having Carol who not only had a degree in business and marketing, but also possessed a huge appreciation for art. Carol and I were Dan's dream team. Together we pulled off the impossible: we opened up a gallery. Carol has been a true blessing and a dear friend from the start; a great friend who took the time to take care of me. I smiled as she placed a large black coffee on my desk.

"Carol, I have no idea what I would do without you" I said, wrapping my hands around the large cup of warm coffee. Coffee was an artist's drug when working long painful hours in a studio or in an office.

"Crash and burn my dear, crash and burn. Dan is out scouting for new artists which means we can take a small break" she grinned, taking a seat in one of the two chairs in front of my desk. Her eyes riveted on me, her fingers drilled against her knee. I returned her gaze slightly confused. "So… did you make a deal with him?"

"With whom? Angelina Torchia?" I asked. Carol threw her head back and let out an exasperated sigh.

"No you silly silly girl! Jeremy Danvers!"

"Oh… well… I am still not sure" I mumbled, my lips pursing in slight puzzlement. Jeremy Danvers had approached me after the benefit, making his trip all the way across town to my studio where I lived. For a well-to-do art manager, my own personal life was a mishmash of colour. Carol would have a different description of the personal space I lived in. My parents had never bothered coming down to visit. They preferred to remain in their cozy uptown home in Montreal. I have not seen my family in over three years, the same amount of time my business has been in existence. I think my parents still hold a grudge against my career choice. Nevertheless, we still keep in touch for important dates such as Christmas and birthdays via phone conference. I am lucky if I get a present through the mail.

"How can you not be sure?" Carol's voice brought me back to reality. I set the coffee down and attempted to smooth the bags out from under my eyes.

"He is unsure about the security and anonymity we can provide as a firm. He is a very talented twenty-seven year old. His life does not revolve around artwork but in translating texts… Jeremy has a wonderful talent for making everything he makes with his hands come to life. He is scared though. Every fiber in his body is against this. That is the strange factor; he does not want to showcase his work and yet he is doing it. He doesn't want to exhibit his work under his name. He wants it to be anonymous."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously Carol. I am puzzled. He is amazing, I even told him so."

"He is young, but so are we. We took a leap of faith Nikki when we decided to start our business. We were fresh out of college and we only had each other to rely on. Jeremy now has the opportunity to have someone who understands him support him through this. If my mind serves me well, you don't sign any of your works" Carol smiled sweetly.

"I guess"

"Give him a chance and don't doubt him. He might surprise you in the end" Carol stood to leave as the phone from her office began to ring. We should probably invest in a secretary to start screening our calls. "Oh and Nikki," I looked up from a file I took out of the grey cabinet I kept under my desk. "Whatever crap he is going through that is forcing him to display his works without using his name, probably isn't easy" I nodded slowly. I was the reigning queen of complicated family life. Then again, he and I were probably in the same boat. So I did what any sensible person did: I plugged my phone back in, took a scrap piece of paper with a number scrawled on it, and called Jeremy Danvers.

* * *

I stared at him from across a small café two blocks down from our offices. It was a quaint place with a lovely terrace and colourful umbrellas. The air was warm for an October afternoon, almost like a faint reminder of a very warm summer. I was glad I had chosen to wear comfortable clothing today. My schedule did not have any meetings jotted down so this encounter with Jeremy was completely out of the blue. Today was meant for housekeeping at the office which meant wearing laid back attire for cleaning. I usually always presented myself with class and style when organizing a business meeting but since today's rendez-vous was sudden and unscheduled, Jeremy would have to make do. However, my choice of clothing seemed to have a calming effect on him. I could detect a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his delicate lips. Straight legged jeans, a pair of converse and a t-shirt were definitely a point in my favour with regards to this timid and mysterious man.

He sipped his coffee slowly. Everything he did, every movement had a grace of its own. All I could do was stare in awe. Pleasing to the eye, his raven hair shone with the soft rays of the sun through the trees like light on the surface of a dark pool of water. His deep slanted brown eyes were mirrors you could get lost in. Jeremy set his cup down and looked at me, waiting for me to make a comment about why I called him here.

"I think it would be in your best interest for me to take you on as a client. I have lots of plans in store for you" I began saying, pulling a dossier out of my messenger bag. Jeremy tensed up.

"But…"

"I know 'lots of plans' seems scary but you have a great talent Mr. Danvers. It is not often that I get the opportunity to come across a talent as rare as yours. It is so refined and spot on. We could keep you art local if that is what you would prefer." Pulling out graphs and charts, I presented him with concrete results of our artists' successes in collaboration with our gallery. He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the sheets of paper in front of him. I could see desire and a hunger in the way he looked at the pages filled with facts. He wanted this badly, I could tell. Something was holding him back though. He seemed held at bay by an invisible chain. The look was gone as quickly as it came. If it had not been for my keen eye, I would not have noticed it. "Jeremy…" I gently lay my hand over his. I could feel the muscles tense and twitch under my hand. He was nervous. "I want to showcase your work. Let me take care of everything and all you will have to do is send me your work."

"My name cannot appear under the paintings. Furthermore, I am leaving town early tomorrow. I left my young cousin at home and I need to get back to him. Could you fax the contract over?" He said, pulling his hand out from under mine, returning it to his lap.

"Of course" I smiled, pouring every ounce of sweetness I could into that one facial expression. He nodded briskly, eyes roaming our location. Was everything all right? My heart began to race. Was there something wrong? "Jeremy… are you in some sort of trouble?"

"It's nothing" he smiled weekly. It was definitely not just nothing. There was something bothering him. My mind started formulating its own theories. The first one that popped up was his family not supporting his choices like mine. I continued to stare at him. Jeremy seemed relieved to have finalized our contract, but he also seemed to be on edge. An idea sprang to mind.

"Come with me" I stood, hefting my bag onto my shoulder, and stuck my hand out for him to take. It was Jeremy's turn to stare at me. His eyes traveled from my eyes down to my hand. He seemed uncertain about taking my hand. Why should he? It was just a hand. I wiggled my fingers. "Mr. Danvers, it is just a hand. My hand is not going to transform into some creature and eat you." His eyes snapped up to meet mine, a curious and suspicious glint in them. The sides of his lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. Rising slowly from his seat, he lifted his hand to take mine. Good, he was humouring me. "Let's go for a walk. You look like you need to get out of the city and all of this noise."

Hand in hand, I led Jeremy Danvers towards the centre of New York City to our destination. We took the less busy streets and Jeremy seemed relieved. From our two encounters, I concluded he was not appreciative of our industrial city. He was a shy and timid fellow who preferred his own company rather than spending time with someone else. I was his manager though, he would have to get used to my presence. We would be meeting often in the future to set up vernisages. His large hand encompassed my small one. Carol would be laughing her ass off. However, I take my career as a manager very seriously. I take very good care of my artists. I make it my mission to take excellent care of them. I think that is my problem; I care too much. I care about whether they have a roof over their heads, whether they are getting enough food, whether or not their rent is being paid… I make sure they can have a life. When they sign a contract with me, they are being adopted into my life. Sometimes it might seem like I am spreading myself too thin, but I care. This is more than most people can vouch about themselves. I am a born naturally caring person which is what Dan first noticed about me.

So here I am, hand in hand with a handsome young artist plagued by inner demons and leading him to a tiny bit of paradise in the middle of New York City: Central Park. He had no clue as to where I was leading him, but I thought he would enjoy this change of scenery. If my researches proved correct, Jeremy Danvers came from a wooded area outside of New York City. Since he grew up there, it only made sense that a wooded area was a safe haven for him. My challenge: getting him to open up about himself. He was pretty tight lipped about his past. The only information I could weasel out of him was where he lived and that his father was not a present figure in his life. He lived alone with his younger cousin he took under his wing. I squeezed his hand in sympathy. If I could count the number of artists who came from broken homes, I would need more than ten fingers. In my case, my parents had preferred to shut me out.

"I was thirteen when I first picked up a paint brush. My parents never thought of signing me up for art classes. My father is a neurosurgeon and my mother is a mechanical engineer. Both fit the stereotypes for their trade. My art teacher in high school was the first person to point out I had a real talent. My parents ignored the encouragements my art teacher gave me. They found a way of pulling me out of art class. I snuck back in." I smiled sheepishly, staring down at my feet.

"I am sorry your parents were not supportive. It must have been difficult" he said, loosening his hold on my hand. Letting go, he placed his hands in his pocket. My empty hand felt the air drift past it sending chills down my arm.

"It was" I mumbled, crossing the street. Seeing our destination rising up ahead, I grinned. Jeremy's gaze followed my own and he quirked an eyebrow. Passing my arm through his, I lead him across the street and into Central Park. Every fiber in his body tensed up and began to tremble ever so slightly. After ten minutes of aimless walking into a wooded area of the park, I let go of him and turned to face Jeremy. "Are you quite alright? I thought a little trip into the trees was exactly what you needed to relax"

"Relax?" he let out an airy laugh. "Ms Simmons…" Jeremy began, running an exasperated hand through his dark hair, pushing his bangs back from his face.

"Mr Danvers, please continue to humour my ever creative and strange mind" I asked, letting my bag settle on the grass. He stared at me as I removed my shoes and socks, toes curling into the cool grass. Despite it being midday, the trees were thick and preserved the moisture of this morning. I closed my eyes and opened my sense up to the nature around me. My breathing slowed to a mere murmur. Three years of yoga classes had helped me learn how to breathe accordingly and how to rid myself of my everyday stress factors. The rustling of leaves and a change in the atmosphere is what caused me to snap out of my reverie. Looking about myself, Jeremy Danvers was nowhere to be found.

* * *

"Carol, I don't understand!" I threw my hands up in the air, settling down on my couch in the studio I had turned into my home. I could hear her giggle over the speaker phone. "One moment he is there and the next he is gone!"

"Elusive bugger isn't he! Maybe he is… Oh what do those Native American tribes believe in? You know the name… like Mystique in those X-Men comics my brother used to collect"

"Are you referring to a shape-shifter or a trickster?" I asked, hand falling over my face. Carol was an awesome person, but strange too. She always had a penchant for supernatural folklore or movies. It did not help that her older brother passed down his comic books to her when she was four. That is how Carol learnt to read; she read the X-Men series.

"YES!" she hooted. I could envision her on her own couch bouncing with excitement. "If only it were true! But this Jeremy Danvers is getting more and more mysterious by the hour…" she stopped for a moment, then worry laced her voice as she added: "Maybe you shouldn't get involved with him"

"Excuse me?" I bolted upright, eyes zeroing on the phone, the red light for the speaker phone option glaring.

"Sweetie, I know you have this wonderful passion for art and you want to help every artist on the street make a living for themselves, but let's face it honey; you are human. You are not a saint and you are definitely not a superhero either. This guy may seem great, but disappearing like that, and always being on edge as though something is going to jump out and attack him at any moment… I'm not sure that is the ideal client for you to take on. Whatever is chasing him, I don't want to see you get dragged into it" I began to protest but Carol tut-tutted me. "Just think about it okay. I know how much you like the guy because of his artwork. Remember though, you can't change everyone" I nodded as we said our good byes. It just seemed unfair that I had managed to make it when there were others far worse off than I who were still struggling. Why could I not offer them a piece of happiness?

Stretching, I lifted myself off my couch and made my way towards my bed when I heard a knock at the door. I glanced at the clock over by my kitchenette. 23h17. Who came knocking at people's door at this hour. I tightened my bathrobe around me more firmly and began making my way towards the door when I stopped short. No one had rang my door bell on the first floor and I had not buzzed anyone up… my pulse began to quicken in alarm. Breathing deeply I tried to regain my calm. Perhaps it was the wind. The knock came again; definitely not the wind. My heart leapt into my throat. Carol's words came back to haunt me. Jeremy was involved with some sort of mafia or mob and they had sent one of their trusted assassins to kill me. Footsteps shuffled at my door. I grabbed my broom that lay near the entrance cupboard as a weapon against my intruder. Ever so slowly, I placed my hand on the door knob, turned it, flung the door open, and launched myself on my intruder.

My broom only went so far as it was caught by a large hand. My eyes flew up to meet a pair of almond shaped ones. Jeremy's eyes blinked into my green ones and we just stood there, him holding onto one end of my broom and I onto the other. Lowering my guard a little, I poked my head out of my doorframe and peered about the abandoned hallway. Then, my eyes returned to look at Jeremy.

"Jeremy Danvers, what on earth are you doing at my place at his ungodly hour?" I asked; broom still clutched tightly between my hands.

"I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this afternoon and to make sure you were alright" he said, his nostrils twitching. Was he sniffing my home?

"Uh… okay… and you could not do this over the phone?" he seemed at a lost for words after my question. He just stared directly act me, his eyes emotionless. "Well, as you can see for yourself Mr Danvers, I am safe and sound in my bathrobe, ready to be off to bed. Can I help you with anything else?" He shook his head. I backed up and placed the broom behind the door. "If there is nothing else, I'm afraid I am going to have to close the door on you" Jeremy nodded, hands going into his pockets. I was closing the door when another thought occurred to me. "The next time you want to visit me, call. Showing up like this is just a tiny bit freaky. Use the phone or make an appointment at my office" With that, I closed the door on Jeremy Danvers and went to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

After Jeremy's impromptu appearance on my doorstep late one evening, I did not see him again for two months. To be honest, seeing him at my door late at night, it had unsettled me. I do not usually have people show up near the wee hours of the morning, at least, unannounced people. I try not to mix business and pleasure, a sound precept upheld by many professionals. This is not to say I did not contact Jeremy. We maintained correspondence by phone. This relationship best suited our professional relationship. I believe it also placed him at ease. My memories of Jeremy were always of him being on edge like a caged animal. An emergency in Montreal forced me to pass on Jeremy's portfolio to Dan. My father became ill after suffering a heart arrhythmia, and I had to fly to Montreal to be with my estranged family.

The two months I spent with my parents were uneventful. My parents still viewed me the same way. The only element that kept me from returning to New York was my father. My mother needed help taking care of him after the release from the hospital. For two months I spent most of my time with my father. My mother placed him in my entire care while she continued on with work. Seeing how they both interacted with one another, I cannot understand how they are still married. I did not mind the time I spent with my father though. If anything it was a small blessing. We actually managed to connect on a small level. We would spend our afternoons outside on the lounge chairs listening to the sounds of nature. He would occasionally talk, but he would mostly sleep. The arrhythmia had aged my father in more than one way, and I knew he would never be the same. He slept and I sketched. Afterwards, he would look at my drawings and I could see the wonder appear in his eyes. I think for the first time he actually understood me. He saw me as more than the stereotypical flaky struggling artist. I was his daughter who possessed an amazing talent and insight on life. In the small moments we had together, I loved my father.

I was packing my clothes one morning in order for my return back to the Big Apple. I would have liked to stay a bit longer with my father, but I had a job and many clients waiting for my return. I had ignored my work for a bit too long. Dan had said family came first, and even though I agree with him, I cannot let my artists down either. I was closing the lid on my suitcase when the phone rang. It was Dan. He had an important meeting to get to in San Francisco and would not have the time to meet with Jeremy Danvers before his flight. Since I was flying back in that direction, would I mind dropping into Jeremy's home to meet with the artist. Since I was more familiar with Jeremy's case than Carol and because I was the one to first sign him to a contract, I was the more logical choice to handle Jeremy's dossier in person. Dan promised to fax the information over to me. Some friendly chit chat and Dan had to catch a cab. Walking over to the home fax machine, I picked up the sheets of paper. Next stop: 13876, Wilton Grove Lane, Bear Valley, New York.

* * *

My flight with Air Canada was uneventful. I slept most of the way into New York. I do not deal well with planes or flying so I resort to the only escape I can: sleep. Once in New York, I rented a car to drive all the way into Bear Valley. It was once I hit Bear Valley that I suddenly became engrossed in my surroundings. Orange, red, and gold leaves passed me by as I drove along the freeway. The colours made my artist's heart sing with joy. The trees were like elegant dancers, their branches dancing in the breeze. I could almost hear the wind in the boughs like the sound of running water. I was so captivated by the landscape I nearly missed the exit to Bear Valley. I made a pit stop at the closest gasoline station to ask for directions. The townspeople were very kind. Just by interacting with some of the locals, I could tell that they shared a very strong sense of community and family. The town had a wonderful homey feel to it. Whatever anxieties I had about meeting the man who had visited me on my doorstep late at night without warning slowly drifted away. If Jeremy Danvers came from such a wonderful community, he had to be an okay guy. There was probably a rational explanation for his previous behaviour.

Following the directions provided to me by the lovely people at the bakery, I drove off to find the Danvers' heritage home, Stonehaven. I drove my rented jeep up small streets, and deeper into the wooded region in which Bear Valley was gently nestled away. I was driving up a narrow dirt road leading into a thick forest when I saw a small red mail box at the end of a driveway bordered by a long stone wall travelling up and down the road. Leaning over the steering wheel, I strained my eyes to read the number on the mail box: 13876. I was driving along Wilton Grove Lane and this seemed to be 13876, Wilton Grove Lane. This had to be Jeremy Danvers' house. Putting my flasher on, I turned into the drive way and led the car up the long stretch of pavement. The trees parted, exposing a two story home framed by woods. It was an old house made of stone with lovely wood framed windows. The name given to the house fit it perfectly; it was a haven made of stone tucked away from harsh societal norms and expectations.

I parked the car in the driveway and turned off the ignition. Grabbing a hold of my messenger bag, I opened the car door, and made my way up to the front door of the house. Leaves crunched under my knee high leather boots. Beneath the heavy scent of pine and cedar that clung to the air, I could smell leaves being burnt in the distance. Nearby, birds flitted about, chirping happily. Squirrels scuttled along the undergrowth looking for provisions, preparing themselves for the upcoming winter season. If the temperature kept dipping around zero, we might get some snow in a couple of days. The smells and sounds seemed to awaken my senses and I stood there taking everything in. Excitement tingled through me and for a second, my eyes focused on a specific part of the forest. The tingling sensation grew. A small fire formed in the pit of my belly, anxiety gripping at me. Something was there; someone was watching me. In the darkness of the forest, two luminescent blue eyes stared out at me.

The front door was wrenched open and I whirled around to stare straight into Jeremy's face. His face was taut as he stared at the spot over my shoulder where I had been staring a second ago. I turned to look over my shoulder, anxiety still gripping me. The eyes were gone. They were probably figments of an overexerted mind. Jeremy's body slowly relaxed and he looked down into my eyes. His pupils expanded as recognition set in. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and I could feel myself relax as well.

"Ms Simmons, I was not expecting you" he said, leaning against the doorframe.

"Dan was held up so… I came instead. I hope this is not a problem" I smiled, shifting the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

"No, this is not a problem. Please, come inside" stepping aside, he welcomed me into the house. If it had seemed like a miniature fortress exhuming a sense of security on the outside, it felt cozy and safe on the inside. The walls may have been generic in colour, but the floors and furniture were all hardwood.

"Mr Danvers -"

"Jeremy, please" he smiled, escorting me into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee please. Jeremy, you have a lovely home" I took a seat at the kitchen table.

"Thank you. The home has been in my family for many years. It's what you could call an ancestral home" he walked about the kitchen fixing my coffee. He started the coffee machine and turned to stare at me, leaning against the counter. Something was different. He was not the same person he had been two months ago. He was not shy or worried; he was confident and laid back. He was if his own element, and it showed. "Ms Simmons –"

"Nikita… Nikki for friends"

"Nikita…" he paused and tilted his head, feeling my name roll off his tongue. Jeremy smiled once again. "Nikita, I would like to apologize for the last time we met. I was out of line, and caught up in… a difficult family situation." It was so hard to hold a grudge or to hold onto any form of judgment I might have held against him before. He was so well mannered, considerate, and kind. Plus, I knew something about difficult family situation myself. I felt my muscles relax. He was not a creep, just someone in the middle of a difficult moment. This I could understand.

"Who doesn't? I just came from one, but honestly Jeremy, don't worry about it" I smiled, crossing one leg over another.

"So I am forgiven for being inconsiderate and… somewhat strange?"

"Completely forgiven as long as you give a heads up in the future when you decide to show up at my doorstep at around midnight" he grinned, and poured me a cup of coffee which he placed on the table in front of my folded hands. "I brought your file folder with me so we can look some things over, but… I am mostly here to check up on you"

"Really?" looking up from my coffee mug, I stared into his relaxed face where a coy smile splayed itself on his lips. Warmth erupted in my belly and spread to my limbs. To say he was good looking was an understatement, and to see him so confident as well as playful… I will not lie and say my mind was not thinking dirty thoughts. It had been a while since I experienced any form of intimate human contact. His almond shaped eyes sparkled with mirth and I could not help but lose myself in them despite the small voice at the back of my mind telling me to focus on my assigned task. "Actually, I was going to ask you something if your schedule is not too hectic. I have looked at some of your artwork and I know you sometimes give workshops… would you want to stay here for a little while to help me with my technique" I nearly chocked on my warm coffee.

"Stay here… with you… what about your family?"

"My father is not here and my young cousin won't mind. I have already spoken to him about it. He will understand that you are here for educational purposes. Furthermore, I can pay the price of your regular workshops"

"I am not worried about you affording me, I am just thinking about my job. I have been away for two months. I haven't been back to the office in two months Jeremy"

"You can work from here. Every tool is at your disposal, and you can contact your clients by phone"

"Wow… you have really thought this out"

"I could really use the help. I am not professionally trained but rather self-taught. I need direction, and I am actually going through a mental block"

"So you are looking for a muse?"

"A muse teacher willing to shape me" my heart skipped a beat at his words. I kept staring at his gorgeous face, wanting to brush his uneven bangs out of his face. What is wrong with me?

"I suppose I could stay for a week, give you a few pointers… until you get your mojo back" the back door opened, and a young teenager walked in. His sky blue eyes were fixed on me. The presence I had felt earlier in the woods was embodied in this young boy. His nostrils flared, his eyes never leaving my face. Shifting my gaze to Jeremy, I could see his entire body tense beneath his calm exterior.

"Nikki, this is Clayton, my young cousin" Jeremy said while staring at Clayton. "Clayton, this is Nikki. She works with Dan, the art gallery director. She is the young woman I told you about. She will be staying for a few days to help me with my art" smiling the brightest smile I could muster, I extended my hand towards the boy. Jeremy followed my arm with his eyes and turned in his seat to stare back at Clayton. Blue eyes never leaving my face, Clayton slowly advanced towards me. Gruffly, he took my hand and shook it. Then, as quickly as he had grabbed my hand, he let it go to stand behind Jeremy's chair. Clayton's body language told me he was on the defensive, protecting Jeremy. What was he protecting him from? Me?

"Well, it is lovely to meet you Clayton"

"How about I show you to your room? You must be tired after a long trip" Jeremy offered, shooting a glance towards Clayton who let out a soft growl. It was obvious he did not like Jeremy being alone with me. However, due to my size and height, he did not seem to see me as an imposing threat. Jeremy stood and led me up the stairs, Clayton following at our heels. We walked down a long hall, and Jeremy stopped in front of the last room on the left. "This will be your room for the time being. If there is anything you need, just ask. My room is right across from yours"

I smiled, thanked my gracious host, and closed the door behind me as I entered my designated room. The room itself had white walls with one bed, a dresser, a night table, a mirror, and an adjoining bathroom. The comforter on the bed was a deep green with embroidered black runes. Fresh towels and linens were neatly folded on the bed along with other female products in a small wicker basket. Someone had been expecting me.


	4. Chapter 4

Our art sessions began the following day with Clayton in attendance. For the first week, Clayton would place himself directly next to Jeremy, growling every time I came too close to Jeremy for his liking. Jeremy had to pull him aside a couple of times to explain that he needed me to be nearby to correct him. Other words were exchanged, but far too low for me to make anything of them. In light of Clayton's behaviour, I tried giving him wax crayons in the hopes of triggering his interest in what I was trying to achieve with Jeremy. It was pointless. He did draw a few pictures though, but would become annoyed easily, resorting to throwing the crayons across the room.

Clayton soon became bored with my presence and attempts to engage him in art. It became clear to him I was no threat to his elder cousin. It took Clayton five days to come to this realization. After those five days, Clayton decided to sit out on our daily art sessions. It was then that Jeremy's personality came out. If there was one word to describe the student Jeremy was, it was determined. He was also charming, witty, and very perseverant. Every endeavor he undertook, he carried out with much concentration and perseverance. Jeremy was a pleasure to teach. One week turned into two weeks, and two weeks turned into three.

Our mornings were dedicated to me being the teacher. Together, I helped him discover charcoal, pastels, acrylic, and watercolor. Together, we refined his skills in oil painting. The afternoons were left to our own discretions. Sometimes I would work alone on art work I had begun, or I worked on paperwork for the gallery. On occasions, I would accompany Jeremy into town to purchase supplies, or we would venture into the woods out back. It was during one of our treks when something struck me. Despite all the pleasure I took in Jeremy's discoveries during our classes, he had remained cooped up in the living room and kitchen since the beginning. The outdoors provided a vast array of still life he could capture on paper. Today, I wanted to try something different with him; I wanted to force him to go outside the box.

"So I was thinking," I began, placing my dish in the sink. "Maybe we should take our art outside for a change." Jeremy looked up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table. He stared at me with deep chocolate eyes, speculating. "It would be a nice experience. You could take your sketch book and charcoal pencils with you, and with the sun, it will allow you to practice your shading."

"What's wrong with my shading?" he asked, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

"Nothing, except there is only so much shading you can do indoors. We should also take advantage of the outdoors before the snow settles in."

"I will have to run this by Clay, but I don't think he will mind coming outdoors with us." My heart dipped a little, disappointment seeping into my bones. I had just spent the last two weeks pulling Jeremy out of his shell without Clayton around. Did I really want Clayton back in our sessions? Or is it because I wanted to spend some along time with Jeremy? The little voice inside my head smacked me. This is a professional relationship! It would be unethical to expect anything more. The fact that I even imagined for a split second that I could indulge myself in… "Although, Clay might find this a bit boring. I will just inform him that we will be out for a while so that he does not worry."

"Alright" I smiled, heart racing as he stood to clean off his plate. Walking past me to find Clay, he stopped for a moment. Taking my hand, he gently squeezed it.

"I won't be long. You can go wait out front if you would like." Nodding, my smile broadened to a complete grin. He smiled back, and walked out of the room. What am I thinking?

Dutifully, I placed all my necessary art equipment in my art satchel. I made sure my sketch pad, pencils, and charcoal sticks were in my bag before I made my way to the front of the house. Soft footfalls followed me out the front door. I looked over my shoulder to see Clayton following my every move, stalking me… again. Since my first day in the house, Clayton had followed me everywhere, watching every movement I made. I was confused by his behaviour until I was reading a National Geographics magazine. After reading an excerpt on grey wolves, it occurred to me that Clayton was stalking me. I did not know if it was subject I should take up with Jeremy, so I politely left it out. The last thing I wanted to tell a man was his younger relative shared the same primeval instincts with a wild animal. I could only image how well that conversation would go down. Instead, I put up with Clayton's strange character even though it still made me uneasy at times.

"Jeremy is on the phone." He said gruffly, shoving his hands in his pockets, his cold blue eyes fixed on me. "He said to get started without him. He will catch up." I could tell by his tone, he was not pleased with Jeremy's decision. Jeremy had told me that Clayton's parents had suffered a horrible accident, and that he had afterwards come into Jeremy's care. I suppose it was natural after such a traumatic incident to not want to be separated from your living custodian.

"Alright" I managed to smile. I held out my hand, thinking he might take it. Instead, he brushed past my hand, walking down the front steps towards a wooded path. He stopped and turned to stare at me as if to say 'are you coming yet?' Jogging up to him, we began our way along the forest path. Clayton kept his distance from me, never coming into close contact unless the path narrowed. After what seemed like forever, I had to talk in order to break the silence. "So… we never really got to speak to each other, you and I."

He grunted.

"I think it was very nice of you to allow me to stay with Jeremy and you." I continued, my fingers playing with the tasseled end of my scarf.

"Not my decision. Jeremy gives orders. He makes choices." Clayton said.

"Oh… well…" I was at a complete loss for words. "I suppose… since you are living under his roof. Jeremy is awfully young to be taking care of you and living in a house like Stonehaven on his own though. Doesn't he have any parents?"

"Dad. Bad man." My heart stopped, as did I. I put a hand out on Clayton's shoulder. His body tensed, and he turned his head over his shoulder to stare at me.

"How bad is bad? Does he… does he hit you? Does he want to hurt Jeremy? As a friend of Jeremy's and a business partner, I need to know that both of you are safe… are you safe?"

"We are always safe in Stonehaven. Jeremy has me, and I have Jeremy. Malcolm is bad, but he has not thought of touching us… yet." He replied. My entire body chilled over. This was the longest conversation or reaction I had ever gotten out of Clayton. Furthermore, I could not imagine what this horrible man Malcolm could do. What if things did get ugly?

"Clayton… I know you are young but-"

"- I can take care of Jeremy. We do not need your help. What can you do? You're only human." I stared, awestruck. Nodding slowly, I started walking again with Clayton at my heels. We did not talk after that, but put our concentration into walking until we found the perfect spot to sit. We eventually walked up to a lake. It was beautiful. I could only image what it looked like in the summer.

Sitting on the edge of the lake, I stared out into the distance. It was a pretty lake gently tucked away in the middle of the wilderness. Surrounded by trees, the water reflected the greenery of the pine trees and the golds of the maple trees. Due to the recent cold weather, there soon would not be anymore leaves on the trees. In the summer, the lake had to be an emerald green. In the distance, a crow squawked. Gently, I pat the ground next to me, encouraging Clayton to take a seat beside me. Warily, he approached me, and sat a meter away from me.

"Why do you hate me?" I finally asked, holding my breath, waiting for the answer. After a minute, I received an answer.

"I don't hate you. I simply do not see your utility to Jeremy. He does not need you; he has me. What use could he have with you? I don't hate you. I don't feel comfortable around you. You are human but… different." He stared at me then, eyes filled with curiosity, an emotion I was not used to receiving from him. "You smell different."

"Excuse me?"

"You don't smell like human. You smell like soap, and… autumn." His nostrils gently flared. Slowly, he rolled onto his heels, and crept towards me. I did not know what to do. This boy was starting to scare me a tiny bit, and yet I could not find the willpower to move from my spot. I let him approach me, his eyes studying me from head to foot. Carefully, his small hands reached out to inspect my face. "You are always warm. Jeremy notices that too. Sometimes, when you get really upset or frustrated, you… make lots of heat." Before I could comment on the situation, Jeremy chose that exact moment to walk into the opening. He stopped in mid-step. His gaze travelled between Clayton and me.

"We should go back inside." He said calmly, his eyes betraying his voice. His entire body was tense, watching me.

"I agree" I said.

* * *

"Clay, go upstairs." Jeremy ordered as we walked into the house. The boy set his mouth stubbornly, but one stern look from Jeremy sent him stomping up the stairs. Closing the front door behind me, I leaned against it. Jeremy ran a hair through his dark hair, and turned to stare at me. "We should… talk." He mumbled, walking into the living room. Slowly, I walked in after him.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked, my gaze boring into his.

"What Clayton said…" he began. He closed his eyes as if searching for words. I filled the silence.

"I think Clayton has a problem."

"Excuse me?" Jeremy exclaimed, eyes darting open to stare at me.

"Come on Jeremy! I know this is not my place, but the boy stalks me like… like… a predator. Then on our walk he tells me I am human, but I smell different. I don't smell like a human should. I think there is something wrong with him Jeremy." I held my breath. Everything I had wanted to tell him just rushed out of my lips. Shoving my hands in my pocket, I waited for a comment.

"Oh… I will have to talk to him about it."

"That's it?"

"Well- "

"Jeremy! This is not something that can just go away. He follows me everywhere, and I am constantly being watched."

"He's territorial."

"No kidding!" I threw my hands up in the air in exasperation, letting myself fall onto the nearby couch. Head in my hands, I breathed deeply. I could feel Jeremy crouch in front of me. Gently, he placed his hands on my knees. "Whatever you do, do not say I am overreacting! A boy on the verge of adolescence is freaking me out because he keeps following me everywhere. It's silly to feel this way; to feel trapped. Clayton… bothers me." Slowly, he began to rub my knees.

"Nikita, it's just how Clayton is. He is peculiar, and it takes a while for him to be able to adjust to other humans. But," tilting my chin up to stare into his deep eyes, he smiled "you are the only person who has lasted this long to his machinations and who he actually seems to be genuinely interested in… in his own way."

"Not funny." I answered back, trying very hard not to let tears of frustration flow down my cheeks. For three weeks, Clayton had literally made it is mission to follow me everywhere, including the bathroom door. "And why do you keep saying human?"

"Shhh" Jeremy grinned. "Do you always have to look at everything with such a critical eye? I know you expect your artwork to be perfect all the time, but people are not perfect. I will talk to Clayton on your behalf." Nodding, I turned my head to the side, staring into the fire place. Jeremy took my head in his hands, and turned my face to face him. "Hey" his eyes softened, his thumbs caressing my cheekbones. Then, worry lines formed on his face. "Nikita, you're really warm." His right hand came to rest on my forehead. "Are you running a fever?"

"No. I'm fine." Backing into the couch, I lifted my own hand to rest on my forehead. "Nope, just fine." Something in Jeremy's look told me he did not buy it. "Seriously, everything is fine. Just because I can be a little emotional on occasions causing my blood pressure to increase, it does not mean I am sick. I am very upset, and this is not making things any better."

"Nikita…"

"What?" I snapped, staring at him furiously. His eyes were glued to my hands which lay on either side of me. Looking down, I saw two burnt holes on the leather couch where my hands lay, palms down. "Ummm… how? I need to go." Standing, I rushed out of the room and up the stairs to my own room.

Flopping onto my bed, I buried my face into my pillow. A scream of rage passed through me and into the down of my pillow. Why are my emotions all over the place? Did I just burn Jeremy's couch? What is wrong with me?


	5. Chapter 5

"Nikita" Jeremy called from the other side of my door. "You've been in there for three days. I think you should come out." Rolling onto my back, I stared up at the white ceiling. Perhaps I am being immature about the situation, but I have no clue what is happening. It feels as though I have lost all control of myself. I burnt Jeremy's couch with my bare hands and decided to hide out in my room. Left alone to meditate on my circumstance, I succeeded in also burning a towel, and a t-shirt. Yet, was I really responsible for those actions, or was I imagining everything? Am I slowly losing my sanity? If I am, it is definitely not due to cabin fever.

"Go away Jeremy!"

"Nikita" Jeremy called again, his voice soft behind the door. My fingers clutched the comforter under my body. If I was going crazy, the last person I wanted to come into contact with was Jeremy Danvers. The door knob rattled. Sitting up, I stared at the door. Was he really going to try to break through the door? "Open the door or I'll…"

"Huff and puff, and blow the house down? Really Jeremy, are you threatening me?" I said, eyes still glued to the door. I could have sworn I heard him chuckle. "You are no big bad wolf, and I am nowhere near being a little piggy."

"Nikki" he growled from the other side. The way he said my name sent pleasurable chills down my spine. Goose bumps rose on the skin of my arms. "Open the door… please."

"It's not safe… I'm dangerous. I could hurt you." I hugged a quilted blanket to my chest.

"I doubt that. I am built of stronger stuff. Now, could you please unlock the door so I can see you? I know somewhat about first aid. I would like to see if you are alright." Rational, why did he have to be so damned rational! Sighing, I weighed the decision in front of me. By avoiding Jeremy, I would be protecting him from… me. If I really am ill though, maybe he could make me feel better. My knowledge of first aid was a Band Aid. No matter what anyone said, I always felt as though Band Aid could cure anything. Right now, I doubt a bandage could cure my problem. Despite my conscience telling me otherwise, I ran quickly to the door, unlocked the latch, and ran back to the bed, resuming my initial position. I hoped Jeremy knew more than I did about first aid. Breathing deeply, I counted to three.

"Okay, but I warned you." Jeremy turned the knob, and came in. Closing the door behind him, he surveyed the state of my room. Looking about myself, I turned a bright shade of pink. My room was covered in papers, sketches, pencils, charcoal, clothes, blankets… it was as if a whirlwind had gone through. I tried to find someway of covering up for my mess, but found none. In my defense, my sketches were to keep me from slipping into immense solitude. Three days is a long time. Jeremy made no remark. Instead, he walked up to the bed, and sat down beside me. "Jeremy, I am really, really, really - " Jeremy placed his index finger on my lips.

"Stop apologizing. Every time you make the slightest error, you apologize. You've been apologizing for every minor set back since you got here. Every time I pass by your door, you keep apologizing. It is not your fault. I hate that you've kept yourself cooped up in your room like a caged animal. Plus, we needed a new couch anyways." He laughed, grinning at me. "Although, I can't say I can complain about your sense of dress if you look like this." Looking at the mirror, my mouth gapped open when I saw my reflection. My flaming red hair was a messy mass of curls sticking up as if I had stuck my finger into an electric socket. My overly large t-shirt was hanging off my shoulder revealing far too much flesh covered in billions of freckles. I looked like a cross between a Persian cat and a great horned owl. My eyes looked huge under purple bags building up under my eyes.

"Oh my!" struggling, to adjust myself, I scrambled to pull my shirt back onto my shoulder, to straighten my flannel pajama bottoms, and to flatten my hair. Jeremy grabbed my face with his hands, bringing my face to stare into his eyes. "I am really not presentable." I muttered, feeling really, really embarrassed.

"Your state of mind is just fine, and I happen to find this look… very sexy."

"Excuse me?" I asked. Did I hear correctly? Did Jeremy Danvers just call me 'sexy'? Had my hearing also gone out the window following my sanity? "Jeremy…"

"I happen to find you very compelling, lively, and vibrant. It is your artistic sense that you pore into every aspect of your life, including yourself, which makes me find you to be very attractive." He smiled. I was definitely hearing wrong. My heart hammered in my chest like a wild horse. Gently, ever so gently, he laid his lips upon my own. It took a moment for my brain to react, and my lips began to move against his. My hands gripped onto his black shirt, pulling him closer as I deepened our kiss.

"Wait" I struggled to breathe as I gently pushed him away. "We can't… It's not… We are moving too soon."

"Really?" he quirked an eyebrow. Staring down at my petite hands, they were clinging onto his shirt with great need. It had been a long time since I had felt the touch of a grown man, and I craved Jeremy. I suppose I had wanted him for a while now, but had tried denying my feelings. He was, after all, a client. This would be a total breach of professionalism. Furthermore, what would a dark, handsome man like Jeremy want to get involved with… well… someone like me? I do not lack self-esteem. I have had many relationships in the past. Yet, when it came to Jeremy, I always found myself either embarrassing myself in front of him by trying to prove how smart and witty I was OR by stumbling over myself. The fact that I longed for Jeremy's touch and the sheer evidence of the matter was embarrassing. Here is a man with such control, and I am crumbling under his barest touch.

"I-I-" I stuttered. I was at a loss for words. I felt like a thirteen year old trying to figure out how to tell a guy I found him cute.

"Stop thinking; turn that busy mind of yours off. Let yourself go." He kissed me again, and I felt it this time to the tips of my toes. I was soooooo going to regret this after! Imagine what… oh what the hell!

Our mouths moved against one another. My lips tingled with the warmth of the friction. His five o'clock shadow rubbed against my smooth skin. Kissing me deeper, we gently fell back onto the bed; his weight pressing against my body. With my teeth, I gently pulled at his lower lip. Jeremy grumbled deep in his throat, and began to kiss down my neck, nipping at the soft flesh. Heat spread through me like kerosene. I felt as though I would jump out of my skin as Jeremy kissed his way down my sternum. In one swift movement, he removed my shirt over my head. Jeremy stopped, staring down at the naked upper half of my body. Softly with his fingers, he began to trace my curves. "Beautiful." His fingers traced over my breasts, and around my nipples. My back arched underneath him, pelvis unknowingly grinding against his. A moan escaped his lips. He brought his face down to my chest, exploring the fullness of my curves with his mouth. I needed him, I wanted him. I lost control of myself.

My hands shook with desire as I struggled to undo his pants. Jeremy nipped and sucked at my navel. Somehow, I lost my pajama bottoms in a moment of frenzy. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers slid under the band of my underwear. Quivering with need, my body was as taught as a bow. I did not think I could last much longer under his attentions. His fingers trailed the lace of my underwear, spreading my legs apart as he searched for that most intimate part of my body. I could not take it anymore. Grabbing his face, I pulled him back up, lips devouring his. I undid his pants, sliding them down his slim hips. We rolled around together, each of us seeking to dominate the other. Tangled in my bed sheets, he pinned me down, and thrust into me. My fingers dug into his back as he thrust against me; his need meeting my own. My hips drove upward to meet his as we struggled to find a common beat, each of us driven by our overpowered desires. Winter green eyes met dark chocolate eyes and everything slowed to a perfect rhythm. Never for one instant did we break that contact. Then, it happened. I felt as though my body was about to explode, about to break under Jeremy. My body, consumed by pleasure and fire, trembled. Jeremy groaned, and we both were engulfed in light. Jeremy laid his head on my chest as we panted, sweat soaked bodies curled against each other.

"That was-"

"Wow" he grinned, nipping at my mound.

"Yeah" I sighed in content, fingers running through his raven locks.

"You're amazing." Jeremy stated, his fingers interlacing with my free hand.

"You have to say that, we just had mind boggling sex." I giggled breathlessly. As far as professionalism went, I was screwed.

"It's more than just sex." His finger outlined my nipple, watching it harden once again.

"Jeremy, we haven't known each other for very long. I'm your agent, and you're my client/student. This is very wrong."

"I don't think it's wrong. I do care about you; a lot actually."

"If every man could say that…" I looked down at him with sad eyes. "I really like you Jeremy, but all of this, it's kind of surreal. You cannot just expect me to fall for all of this."

"I'm not asking you to; I am telling you how I feel about you. I have grown fond of you over the last few weeks. You first piqued my curiosity in New York when you brought me to Central Park and-"

"And you ditched me."

"I hardly ditched you."

"Jeremy," I propped myself up on my elbows, staring down at him "you up and poofed."

"Okay, I poofed." He laughed, a very pleasant laughed I noted in my mind. He had a rich baritone voice that was neither too high nor too low, but just right. "Nikita, I am not really good with words…"

"Uh huh, this coming from the man who uses really large words and complete sentences to express himself. Your living room also happens to be filled with loads of books from one wall to the next."

"I am a… peculiar person who… once I like someone, I really like someone. It's serious. I don't usually get attached to people very much." He looked up at me with soft eyes. It was very hard not to want to simply reach over and kiss him.

"So you are saying that you have grown attached to me?" I asked.

"Yes, very much so, and if it is alright with you, I would like to continue seeing you in a non-professional context like this."

"Sex?"

"No," Jeremy growled, climbing further up my body so that he was on all fours above me, face at eye level. "More than just sex."

"Ah… why does everything seem so well planned and outlined with you? Have you rehearsed?"

"Maybe" he kissed me softly.

"Hmm… not fair. I am always striving to impress you, and you carry things out with such ease; it's unfair. You are so sure of things." I stroked his cheek with my hand. If I let him do this to me, I was going to get really hurt in the future. I could feel it in my bones.

"It comes with age." I snorted at his comment.

"Please, I am only a few years younger than you." Jeremy lay down next to me, staring through almond shaped eyes. He had a grin from ear to ear.

"So… is it a yes?"

"Yes to what?"

"Yes to wanting to terminate our professional relationship and to engage in a more personal relationship with me."

"Oh, that! I don't know. What do I benefit from in this relationship?"

"Me?"

"Now you're just full of yourself."

"Nope, just sure of myself as you have kindly pointed out before."

"I don't know if I can be with a guy who thinks that highly of himself." Slowly, Jeremy drew me towards him, kissing down my neck. I could feel my stomach doing summersaults. I sighed deeply. "Alright, alright… yes I will 'engage in a personal relationship' with you." Jeremy nodded his approval, and settled for having his arms around me.

"Nikki…" he stared at the pillow at the side of the bed. "Did you…?" I turned my head to stare at what used to be a pillow. In its stead was a half burnt fluff.

"Burn the pillow you mean? Who knows? I feel like I'm slowly losing my head." I covered my face with my hands.

"Hmm" I looked over at Jeremy between my fingers.

"What?"

"I'll need to read up on this. It's very interesting."

"How is it interesting? I burn things with my ware hands. It's kind of freaky."

"Nikki, that is the least freaky thing I have seen, and I say this from personal experience." Jeremy said, pulling the covers up closer around us. I scowled. What freakier things could this calm man have seen that did not involve me starting fires?

As my eyes became heavy with wandering thoughts, sleep came knocking at my door. Drifting off to sleep, curled up against Jeremy, I heard the cry of a lone wolf in the distance. Making a mental note to myself as a yawned, I would have to warn Jeremy to be careful the next time he went out with Clayton. If wolves were coming out onto his property, I did not want either getting hurt. Perhaps all of this was just a wonderful dream.


	6. Chapter 6

My heart pounded on my chest as I ran with all the strength I possessed. Something was coming for me, and I did not know what it was. Howls erupted from either side of me. Fear gripped me with its iron fist. I had no clue what was happening. All I new is that I needed to reach Stonehaven. I knew I would be safe there if only I could reach the door. My legs worked hard against the burning sensation throughout my body. Tears streamed down my face as I pelted through the thick bushes. I could now see the house in the distance. My leg caught in a tree root sending me sprawling across the forest ground. Trying to push myself off the leafy floor, something heavy plowed into my side sending me flying into a nearby tree. My side burned in pain and it hurt to breathe. Looking up at my assailant, a huge black wolf stood other me, snarling. Drool dripped from its jaw exposing large teeth as big as my fingers. The sight terrified me, and I knew I would be dead in a few moments.

I sat up in bed; my sheets wet with sweat clinging to my body. Checking my limbs, I ran my hands through my damp fair. I had been plagued with these dreams for the last month since I left Jeremy and Stonehaven to return to the real world. My body trembled with exhaustion and the remnants of my nightmare. Over and over, I had witnessed by death by wolves. Why? Coffee, I needed coffee.

I slipped out of bed and made my way to my kitchen to prepare some espresso. My nerves were fried and I probably should not be drinking coffee, but after another horrific scene of my own death, there was no way I was going back to sleep. Waiting for the coffee pot to fill itself, I wrapped myself in a blanket and made my way to the tall windows of my studio. Rain splattered against the windowpanes as I stared down at the street below. It was 3h00 in the morning and everything below was silent except for the occasional taxi or car. A chill went through me as I continued to stare outside. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my eyes peered about the darkness. Someone was watching me and I could feel it. Pulling the blanket closer around me, I brought my face closer to the window, searching. Inside a dark alleyway were two yellow eyes, glowing in the dark. I blinked my eyes, and the floating orbs were gone. I brought the heels of my hands to rub my eyes. Maybe it was just traces of my dream haunting me, or perhaps I was simply tired from not sleeping properly.

I missed Jeremy. He always knew when there was something wrong or if I needed comforting. It was like a six sense. Yet, what I missed more was how I could discuss things with him and he would never judge me no matter how ridiculous the conversations were. Right now, I felt alone, miserable, and confused.

The phone rang two hours later, awaking me from my sleep. Rubbing the ache in my neck from falling asleep on the couch, I lifted the nearest phone from the receiver and brought it to my ear. It was the hospital calling about my father. He had taken a nasty fall and had to undergo surgery to reposition the bone in his leg. They were calling because I was his daughter and my mother was unreachable.

* * *

I do not remember the number of hours I sat there, staring at my father as he lay in his hospital bed. My mother had left my father alone in his frail condition for over two weeks. He had been struggling to get to the kitchen to make himself some food, and he fell down the stairs, breaking his leg and splitting his head open. Due to his fragility after his heart arrhythmia, my father's injuries were more severe. While he struggled to remain conscious after his surgery, I was struggling between profound concern for my father's wellbeing and white anger towards my mother who abandoned my father in his time of need.

According to the doctors and nurses, my mother had been unreachable. How could my mother have left my father like this? I knew things were not perfect between by parents, but nothing is ever perfect in a relationship. I felt so upset at my mother as the physician asked me several questions pertaining to my father's medical history. A part of me felt guilty for not knowing some key facts about my father's health.

I felt bad for not having been there for him. Whenever I had been ill as a child, it was always my father who took care of me while my mother was absent. Now when he had needed me, I had not been there. Biting down on my lower lip, I nodded as the medical staff gave me techniques and directions on how to care for my ailing father. I listened numbly, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. Afterwards, I made my way back into the hospital room that kept my father.

"Nikki" his voice croaked as he stared at me. A thin smile broke his face as he reached for my hand. Sitting down on the chair next to the hospital bed, I took his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers.

"Papa, I am so sorry." I said, tears streaming down my face freely. I lifted his hand and brought it to rest against my cheek. Kissing it softly, I closed my eyes.

"For what?" he asked, staring at me with puzzled deep grey eyes so unlike my own.

"I wasn't there for you." he scoffed at my answer.

"Nikkita, you have no reason to apologize. I am a grown man who is fully capable of taking care of himself."

"Which is why you fell down the stairs, broke your leg in several places, and now have stitches in your head? Papa!"

"My smart ass of a daughter." he chuckled, squeezing my hand affectionately. " You were always such a bright girl. I wish your mother could see you now as I have come to see you." Tears continued to flow down my cheeks.

"Well mom is not here. She is never here."

"It is not your mother's fault. Life has not been easy on her ma puce. It has given us many challenges, some of which we are now paying consequences for."

"Like me?" I could not help but ask, lowering my eyes to stare at my father's worn hands.

"No no!" he cupped my face with his hand. "You have always been a sweet blessing."

"You mean strange and bohemian… but mostly strange. That is what mom always said to me." My winter green eyes lifted to stare at his face now contorted with worry. "Why strange papa?" Part of me already knew the answer. "Why am I such a freak? Am I a disappointment?"

"For heavens no! You are special, very special which is why I cherish you so. Your mother… It is a long story for another time when we are not under these circumstances. Plus, I am the injured on here who needs all the attention he can get from his favourite girl in the world." he smiled, looking away. "Is that chocolate pudding the nurses brought me from the cafeteria?"

"Papa! Enough with the secrets! All my life you and mom have kept me cooped up in an ivory tower. I only discovered the world when I left for university in the states. So please, tell me what is going on. Why is mom never home? Why did she call me strange?" I realized I was being a little forwards and perhaps insensitive considering my father's condition, but I needed answers and in a hospital bed, my father could not walk away from he like he always had when the subject came up. "Why... why do I make things catch fire when I am upset or emotionally unstable?" he looked at me now in alarm, his eyes boring into mine. "Please... please" I pleaded, "tell me what is wrong with me. I feel like I am slowly loosing my mind."

My father pressed a button on the side of the bed, making the head of the bed go up. Reaching over, he grabbed his wallet from his night table, and extracted three pictures from it. Gently, he laid all three on to of the bed cover. The first one was of our family, the second was me on my first day of elementary school dressed in a kilt, and the third was of me playing soccer in high school. In all three, my hair and eyes are what stood out. My hair had always been a bright red, almost fire-like in colour. I was often made fun of in elementary school because my hair was so bright and so different from all the other little girls and boys. In a crowd, it was impossible not to find me. My eyes were a bright winter green, shining out of the Polaroids. Looking at the other people in the pictures, I looked so different. I did not look a thing like my parents who were dark haired and dark eyed. Throughout elementary school and high school, there was no child that was similar to me in looks. Gingerly, my father toyed with my elementary school picture. It was his favourite one out of all of them because I was smiling, and I had an impish glint about me as my father often said.

"Your mother and I had been married for seven years before she had you. We were unable to conceive a child, and after a while, your mother simply did not want to have any children. That was our first big argument. She was becoming a different woman from the one I had fallen in love with, but you know what marriage is."

"Till death do us part." I said, pulling my knees up to my chest on the chair.

"That is correct. Well, one month, she tells me she needs to go on a trip to rediscover herself. She was planning on going with a bunch of her girlfriends from work. I was all for it because I thought that perhaps by going through this therapy of hers, it could help save our relationship. So off she goes with her friends to the Galapagos Islands. She was supposed to leave for two weeks. Knowing your mother, she came back after four. The trip had changed her. She seemed younger, happier, and she seemed to glow from every single pore. She was truly breathtaking, and I could not help but fall in love with her again. A few days later she tells me she is pregnant with you. I knew you were not mine because the timing was off. I am a doctor, damn it if I could not calculate a woman's pregnancy. After trying to cajole her into telling me the truth, she told me she had had an affair. I had seen her hospital results after we had consulted her gynecologist. Your mother was infertile. As much as I wanted to scream at her, the chances of her ever having a child again were very, very slim. So... I decided to stay. I figured that if some families could adopt children, why could I not make this exception. The affair was not your fault, why should you be blamed or hated because of something your mother did."

"So... you are not my father?" I stared at him with wide eyes, the information slowly sinking in.

"I still love you though, as much as any father could love his daughter. From the moment the doctor placed you in my arms, I knew you were not a mistake but a miracle. You were my miracle because you helped me not only save me from myself, but you also helped me heal. Your smile, your laughter, and your curiosity... I spent every single day counting your toes and your little fingers. You were beautiful. No one had ever seen such a beautiful babe. Your mother though... she took a distance from you. It was as if the brightness she had carried was transferred to you. She lost her brilliance, and yours grew with every day. She began to dislike you, and withdrew. I got upset at her often, and questioned her attitude. Your mother sunk back into depression, and withdrew from us. She spent more and more time away from us, and then eventually, it became part of her routine."

"That is why she was never home when I was growing up. She hated me?"

"No! No, sweetheart. She was just... confused. Anyways, her anger is towards me, not towards you. She left me a week after you returned to your job. We are through." he smiled sadly. Looking up at me, he lowered the side of the bed, and patted the side next to him. Slowly, I sat down next to him, and let him put an arm around me. I felt like I was four again, snuggling up against my father on his big leather couch in the family room. How could my mother be so selfish? My father had always been such a kind and giving man. He accepted me when I was not even his own child. Who could ever judge him? Yet, this story explained some of the unanswered questions like: why did mom never come to my school recitals or, why does mom never look at me in the eyes unless it is to yell at me?

"Fire"

"What?" my father asked, turning his head to stare down at me.

"I can make things catch fire... is that... normal?" I looked up at him, holding onto his hand as if it were the last thing keeping me linked to reality.

"Oh" he laughed airily. "Is that happening again?"

"Again?"

"As a child you would constantly make things catch fire. At first I thought it was brilliant, a true scientific innovation but... my colleagues thought I had severely bashed my head against something. I stopped mentioning it to them, but watched in wonder as you managed to light candles with your mind, or incinerate dead leaves with your hands. Then one day, I signed you up for your first soccer lesson. The ball hit you squarely in the middle of your eyes. You ended up with a concussion, a mild case of amnesia, and your ability disappeared that day... is it happening again?"

"Yes, but I can't control it. It comes and goes. I feel like a walking hazard, like there is something wrong with me. I feel like I am going crazy and there is nothing I can do to stop this process." My father tightened his arms around me. I buried my face in his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent. Gently, he began to rub my curly hair affectionately. I had missed him so much and he was the rock in my life. Screw biology, this man was my father. "Papa?"

"Oui ma cocotte?"

"Merci. Thank you for all of this, and everything you have given me. I will do everything in my capability to take care of you."

* * *

I tucked my father into bed, and walked down the stairs into the kitchen. After two days, the doctors dismissed my father and allowed me to take him home. I contacted Dan to explain the situation, and to ask for an extended leave of absence. Dan told me to take as much time as I needed. This allowed me to take care of my father, and to spend more time with him. I had just begun to discover a different side of my father I never knew existed. This was a man who encouraged my artistic skills and who was surprisingly open to various topics of discussion. Perhaps it was old age or simply falling down the stairs, but my father was becoming tender. He loved me very much, and I discovered that I too loved him as well. I only wished things had been a bit different growing up.

Opening the fridge, I took out a carton of milk. Pouring the contents into a pot, I placed the pot onto the stove, and lit a burner. I started to rummage through the cupboards in search of cocoa to finish making hot chocolate. I always found that no matter the situation, hot chocolate always managed to make things better. The last couple of days have revealed earthshaking truths that still left me a bit unstable. My mother had finally abandoned us after years of reflection, and my fire abilities were apparently normal. My head swam with all this new information as I absentmindedly stirred the warm milk. Just when I was about to pour the milk into a coffee mug, there was knock at the door. Sighing, I gently placed the pot down on a closed burner, and wiped my hands on a towel. At least the stranger was kind enough not to ring the doorbell. Walking over to the door, I went on the tips of my feet to stare through the peephole. Unsure of what my eyes were showing me, I pulled the door open. Jeremy stood there looking at me with concern in his eyes, the rest of his face smooth and composed. His eyes were the only part of his body capable of betraying his emotions.

"Jeremy? How? How did you know where I was?" I stared. Was he really standing on my doorstep late at night... again?

"Carol was kind enough to pass on the information" he smiled slowly, his eyes never leaving my face. "I felt as though... I thought since you have not called in a few days that something might be amiss. Carol confirmed my sentiments." He approached me cautiously, his hands curling and uncurling.

"Hmm... I thought you promised to call before you showed up on my doorstep unannounced?" I tried hard not to smile, keeping my professional face on. Jeremy eyed me for a bit, studying my face, and smiled. He closed the small distance between us and cupping my face between his hands, he tilted me up to kiss me softly.

"I would not want to break tradition."

"A tradition would imply you showing up on my doorstep unannounced more than twice."

"And I plan to" he kissed me again, backing me into the warmth of my family house. He closed the front door and peered down into my eyes, which had glossed over with tears. "What is the matter?"

"Oh, I am trying really hard not to be emotional about all of this-"

"Your father was just severely injured, I think you have every right to be emotional."

"Jeremy, why are you so... compassionate and understanding?"

"I try to be despite our differences." I nearly chocked on the air around me.

"Because I can make things combust and you are so perfectly normal?" I laughed. Jeremy eyes me, and nodded slowly, a playful smile gracing his face. Yet… the smile did not reach his eyes… something was off. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, why wouldn't everything be alright?" He shook his head, and sniffed the air. "Smells like you are making something."

"You have a VERY good sense of smell. I was making hot chocolate. Would you like some?" He looked at me with a strange look and shook his head.

"No thank you. I am allergic to chocolate. Could I have some water instead?"

"Sure" I guided him into the kitchen and opened a cupboard to retrieve a glass for him. "How goes the painting?"

"It is going well. I have also picked up a translating job I can do from home. It provides me with a steadier income." Jeremy said, leaning against the counter. I nodded and handed the glass of water to him.

"Steady is good. With everything that is happening to me recently, I am surprised Dan is keeping me. I suppose I must provide some source of entertainment in order for him to keep me… and I am very good at what I do." I smiled, drinking from my mug of hot chocolate.

"Yes you are. Nikki?"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if I could stay with you for a couple of days in New York City. There is a meeting with the translating firm I work for and it is important that I be there. Since you also happen to live there, I thought it would both economically efficient and romantically appropriate if I stay with you."

"You want to stay with me? In my small studio?"

"Yes…" Jeremy grinned. He left his glass of water on the counter and encircled me with his arms. "It would be safer for you if you had… a male companion with a sixth sense and an incredible sense of smell."

"So you can stop me before I burn toast or tell me if I am burning toast? Not sure I need a man to tell me either." I laughed, enjoying the warmth of his arms.

"True, but you might need the extra company." Something about the light in his eyes troubled me. His brown eyes seemed like they were hiding something.

"Fine, but do not expect a five star hotel. I am still learning how to cook for myself after more than five years of living on my own." Jeremy nodded, tension leaving his arms and facial features. All of this made me wonder what was wrong.

* * *

Gently, I pulled the blankets away from my bed and fluffed my pilow, preparing to go to sleep. Jeremy had disappeared into the realm of dreams the minute he hit the matress. Not wanting to wake him, I quietly tiptoed over to an armchair near the window to place my jeans and t-shirt on. The hairs on the back on my neck stood on end and I knew someone was watching me. Logically, I turned my head to look in Jeremy's direction. Jeremy was fast asleep in my bed, blankets neatly tucked around him. My eyes turned to stare out the window and into the nearby wooded area next to my house. A pair of glowing yellow eyes stared out at me, wolf-like in nature. I closed my eyes tightly and opened them again. The eyes were still there, gazing at me with interest.


	7. Chapter 7

I never told Jeremy about the glowing eyes, which followed me back to New York. I never told Jeremy about my recurrent dreams where I viewed my own death by wolf mauling. He knew I had nightmares though. His meeting in New York was supposed to be a weeklong; Jeremy extended his visit for three more weeks. He assured me Clay was fine with his cousin Antonio.

Jeremy knew I would wake up in the middle of the night in sweats. He was there next to me rubbing my pack and whispering soothing words as he collected me into his arms. Even though his body transmitted calm, his eyes were wrought with worry. Sometimes he suggested I take the day off, but I could not leave work after all the absences I had made in the last months. It would have been too much.

Jeremy would watch worriedly as I showered and dressed for work. He would escort me to and from the office. He would spend his days in the workspace attached to our showcase gallery just so he could be near. I enjoyed his presence, but thought his overprotection a bit unnecessary. This was when we had our first real fight as a couple. I called him overprotective; he called me insensitive. I called him a list of profane names; he told me he loved me. I yelled at him; he spoke in soothing tones. I burnt books and pillows in anger; he brought home new ones. I told him to leave; he told me he was staying. I thought I was loosing my mind; he thought I needed more monitoring. And still the eyes would follow me at night. In my dreams, they would tare me limb from limb.

Jeremy seemed more on edge as time went by. Even he would start to look for something in the darkness. I had a feeling he too was looking for the eyes. He forced me to install an alarm system and I did not complain. If I believed something was coming after me and that Jeremy was becoming worried for my safety, perhaps I really was in danger.

This is not to say that my days with Jeremy were filled with anger, fear, and paranoia. There lots of wonderful times as well. We painted together; lived together, laughed together, and loved together… we were a real couple. I had never experienced this, and I cherished each moment I had with Jeremy. We went on small excursions together and we visited my father on weekends. I was trying to get my father to move down to the States instead of living in Montreal by himself. Jeremy agreed and was very helpful in convincing my father who had a soft spot for Jeremy.

It was nice and I loved Jeremy. I loved living with Jeremy. It comes to no shock that after three weeks of being cooped up with Jeremy in my studio like a pair of lovebirds, I became pregnant. Part of me was ecstatic about carrying a part of Jeremy inside of me; the other was horrified. I was afraid that if he knew, he would leave me. I knew this was most likely an irrational fear because Jeremy was everything a girl could ever want. Yet, there was still that small part that feared that maybe, just maybe, he was just like every other man.

* * *

"You must be Nikita Simmons." I looked up from my desk to see a very handsome man. His hair was black and his eyes were dark pools with yellow flecks. His face triggered something in my mind. Had I seen this man before?

"Yes I am. How may I help you Mr.-?" I set my pen down and extended my right hand to grasp his strong hand, which nearly crushed mine in the process.

"Malcolm Danvers" he gave me a wicked smile and took a seat in front of me.

"Oh? Are you a relation of Jeremy Danvers?" I rubbed my lightly bruised hand under my desk. This man wearing a nice suit did look a lot like Jeremy.

"I am his father."

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Danvers."

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." He grinned widely, exposing prominent canines. "I wanted to see for myself who my son had invited back to our home and what had attracted him to a city like this one which is of no interest to our species. Apparently he has a fond taste of redheads." I must have turned the same colour as my hair as I held his gave. "I can't say I blame him. You have wonderful assets."

"What can I do for you Mr. Danvers?"

"Things that are much too crude to be voiced out loud." His smile turned predatory then and I felt as if a rock sank into the pit of my stomach. Pushing myself away from my desk, I stood.

"I am afraid you have outlasted your welcome here." I was about to show him to the door when he grabbed me around my neck and thrust me up against the wall. I have no idea how he managed to move so quickly. I struggled to yell but it was impossible for me to make a sound as he squeezed my windpipes.

"You must be real good if you managed to keep my poor excuse for a son entertained. I didn't think he was interested in fucking a human." Bringing his face closer to mine, he sniffed my neck from its base to my temple. "You do smell edible, like a chicken ready to be plucked. Tell me, was he able to please you?" My eyes welled up with tears and my hands went up to grasp his wrists. "You know what pleases me? To make Jeremy suffer. I originally thought that making you scream and making him suffer would be… delicious but you my dear, are delicious." His eyes raked my body. Grasping me with one hand, his free one explored the curves of my body. I wanted to scream but I could not. I wanted to struggle, but the lack of oxygen to my brain prevented me from doing so. "So firm and yet so supple…"

He stopped. I opened my eyes to stare at him. His nostrils flared and his eyes widened. He brought his face closer to mine and inhaled deeply. Slowly, he moved his face away, confusion etched all over his sharp features. He seemed at a loss for words. His grip about my neck slackened a little, allowing oxygen to flow to my brain. My hands wrapped around his wrists began to glow red. Malcolm Danvers stared down as his wrists as his skin began to sizzle under my touch. He dropped me, and I slid to the ground, coughing as I sucked on fresh air. I heard him curse from above. Heaving, I tried to regain a sense of composure despite the fact that there was a mentally unstable person standing over me. Looking up, I could see I had given him three-degree burns.

"What are you?" he asked incredulously, collapsing into the chair in front of my desk.

"I-I think you should leave." I croaked, using my desk to help me stand to my full height.

"Not until I find out what is harboring my grandchild." He stated, briefly glancing at his wrists and then back at me.

"I am human and I would like you to leave my office immediately."

"You, my dear, are not human and neither is your child. What I want to know is whether or not my grandchild will be… crippled." My hands went to rest on my flat belly. Crippled?

"W-what do you mean? C-crippled?"

"Will my grandson be some hybrid or will he become a werewolf?" Anger flared inside of me.

"I do not know who you think you are coming into my office, attacking me, and then making crazy assumptions about my unborn child! Leave!"

"Oh…" Malcolm smiled, flashing his canines once more. "He hasn't told you, has he? This is interesting."

"Leave"

"May I call you Nikita?"

"Leave, or else I will burn your ass." I said quietly. Malcolm stood slowly, and backed towards the door.

"We will be in touch." I watched him leave and raced to the window to watch him cross the street. Only when he disappeared around the street corner did I let myself sit on the floor and cry.

* * *

I walked into my home to find Jeremy in the kitchenette trying to cook steaks. He looked up when I came in, smiling. I returned his smile, trying to hide my sadness. His smile faltered a little, his brows furrowing in concern. Leaving the frying pan, he walked over to me and took my small hands in his.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just a long day. I am going to go take a bath before dinner." I said, and walked passed him into my bathroom before he could stop me. I turned the tap on in the bath and let the water run, pouring lilac scented bath soap into the tub. Dumping my clothes in a pile, I let myself slide into the bath. Feeling the water lap against my skin, I gently let myself slide under the depths.

My unborn baby… I was so afraid of what Jeremy might think or how he could react that I completely forgot about the child growing inside of me. I barely understood myself, how could I manage a child? Would my child be like me? Malcolm had used the term crippled. Would my child be crippled? Malcolm had to be mentally ill. He had spouted things about werewolves. Which normal person…? I was not a normal person. I made things catch fire. If I were real, what proof was there that werewolves were not real? Malcolm had terrified me, and his eyes… eerie. He was such an animal! Malcolm and Jeremy were so different.

Hands plunged into the water to pull me out. I broke the surface sputtering, eyes staring at Jeremy's terrified expression.

"Nikita! What are you trying to do?" he asked, shaking me forcefully. Funny how this was the second time today I had trouble breathing.

"Um, taking a bath?" I argued, gently prying his hands off of me. "I have had a really, REALLY bad day and being under water helps me think."

"Excuse me, but it seemed as though were drowning… on purpose." He said softly, sitting back on his heels, his hands gripping the side of the tub.

"No Jeremy, I have no intention of killing myself." Silence ensued. I could see his hands grip and ungrip the rim of the bath. Slowly, he leant over and kissed my forehead. I felt a sea of emotions open up inside of me, threatening to surface. Tears welled up in my eyes and I looked away from him, seeking to hide the onslaught of waterworks. What was I doing? I was playing house with the most wonderful man in the world who I apparently knew nothing about. I saw all the things I wanted to see in him. In truth, I barely knew him. I had no clue what his favourite colour was or what his favourite movie was. The only person I had met from his family was Clay. Now I discover that his father is obviously crazy. What does that make Jeremy?

"Nikki?" he asked, pushing the wet strands of my hair away from my face.

"I met your father today."

"What?" I turned to face his alarmed face. Grabbing my face in his hands, he began to inspect me and noticed the bruises along my throat. Jeremy cursed in anger. I had never heard him curse before. "What did he do to you? Are you alright?"

"Am I alright?" I took hold of the nearest towel, wrapped it around me and got out of the bathtub. I turned to face him. "You knew he would try to pull shit on me and you never thought to mention before that 'Hey Nikki, my dad is a psycho who goes around sniffing people, nearly strangles them in their office, and thinks his son is a werewolf'. That never once crossed your mind when you were with me?"

"Yes but-"

"But? There is no but Jeremy. Your dad could have killed me. Everyone in the office was out and I was the only one there! You claim to be worried about me but fail to mention the most important thing." Jeremy stared at me helplessly. "Werewolf… really? Your father needs deep medical help or better yet, needs to be put in shackles" I stormed out of the bathroom and across the hall towards my bed. I tugged on a pair of pants and rummaged for a t-shirt until I found the one I wanted. Yanking it over my head, I flopped onto my comforter.

"Nikki…" the mattress tilted under Jeremy's weight as he lay down next to me. He stretched out his hand to caress my arm. "I'm sorry. I should have tried harder to protect you. Perhaps I should have mentioned that my father is… special, as you have lightly put it. He… hates me. Loathes me actually. My mother was Japanese and my father never liked the mix. He finds me weak and an abomination to the family name." I turned my head to look at him. I saw how much pain was in his eyes from being rejected and how much he was concerned for me. I loved him for it, and deep down I hated myself for loving him so much. I had a feeling when this first started out that our relationship would be trouble.

My hand wrapped around the front of his t-shirt and pulled him closer to me. I kissed him deeply, relishing his strong arms around me.

"Jeremy, your father can't be coming near me anymore." Jeremy pressed his forehead against mine and nodded. "I am not sure my body can withhold another attack, not in my condition."

"I know." He tightened his arms around me, afraid that if he would let go, he would lose me. "We need to protect you and our baby." I am not sure how he knew, but I did not ask. He probably could have guessed by my hormones or a stray pregnancy test in the bathroom. A thought struck me though.

"Jeremy, your father knows I am not normal. He was afraid that my baby… our baby would turn out crippled in some way."

"Our baby will be perfect because he or she will come out of you." A pause. "Have you told anyone else?"

"No"

"Maybe we should keep it that way… just in case."

"Why?" I looked up at him. He seemed to be a bit skittish all of a sudden. Was there something else he was not telling me?

"It is a bit early to be getting all excited. You should wait a few more months to ensure that the baby has truly taken inside your womb. Many women go through miscarriages during the first few weeks of pregnancy."

"Oh"

"Yes, 'oh'" he smiled sweetly.

"I thought you were going to pull off the same shit your dad did today. How your kind does not mate with my kind'." I laughed. Jeremy did not think it was that funny.

"Did he really say that?"

"No, but I felt it was most likely coming at some point." Jeremy really did not look pleased. Sitting up, he rubbed his hands on his worn jeans.

"How about we have something to eat. I'll finish cooking the steaks."


	8. Chapter 8

"So?" Carol asked, as we both sat down outside the café around the block from the studio with our drinks. Eyeing Carol's coffee enviously, I took a sip from my orange juice.

"So what?" I replied, capping my beverage and starting to gently pull my blueberry muffin apart.

"How are you feeling?" Grinning, I shook my head at her.

"Umm… great actually. The morning sickness has finally gone away and I am developing crazy cravings for strawberries and fresh fruit."

"Which is super healthy –"

"Until I wake up wanting something really sweet like chocolate or cookies at two in the morning. Really Carol, not much to fawn over."

"What are you talking about? There is a mini you growing in there." Gently, Carol reached over to place a hand on my swollen belly. Her face literally overflowed with happiness. "I so call dibs on being the godmother." I could not help but laugh at her enthusiasm.

"I am glad YOU are excited about this. I get mild back pain, swollen breasts, and morning sickness while all you have to do is sit there and shower my belly with complements. You make this look amazing."

"Do you always have to be so negative? You are having a baby! Furthermore, you have a man who truly loves you."

"Which explains as to why he has missed my evolution over the last four month." I grumbled, shoving muffin into my mouth. I like to believe that my pregnant state allows for me to have access to certain exceptionalities, like stuffing my face.

"Oh please! He is busy and he has his younger cousin Clay to take care of. In addition, he is working two jobs. He is an artist for our gallery AND he is working as a translator. You said so yourself, he is a busy man. Yet, that does not stop him from making overnight trips to see you twice a month." Carol wiggled her eyebrows. Giggling, I playfully pushed her arm. Carol, my best friend, could sometimes be insufferable. Yes, Jeremy was a sweet and loving man despite his absence. Last time he visited he said he was experiencing a lot of family problems, which required his absence from my side and Stonehaven. The way he described the family meetings, it was almost as if he were dealing with PR problems.

"All kidding aside, Jeremy has been wonderful. We've bought a crib and last week he managed to put it together. I was totally lost. It's a blessing that he is as committed to me as he is. I think I would be lost if he had decided to walk out on me four months ago."

"True, but you still would have had me to help you go shopping for baby clothes and to gossip about cute boys. Just because you are in a relationship does not mean you are dead. You are still allowed to look. You're just not allowed to touch." Yes, she was definitely insufferable. Slowly drinking my orange juice, I closed my eyes and tilted my head towards the sun. The warm rays gently caressed my face, the wind tussling my curls. "You look stunning by the way." Carole smiled, folding her hands on the coffee table.

"Thank you. Strange thing really, I was talking about urges and cravings before. Sometimes I have dreams that I am running through a forest."

"Is someone chasing you?" Carol gently demanded, her eyes loosing their brilliance and becoming hard with concern. I had only had the courage to tell her about my dreams two months ago. Carol, despite being a realist, truly believes in psychics, dreams, and the supernatural. I believe it has something to do with one of her aunts being a clairvoyant. It had a large impact on Carol growing up. Carol took my wolf dreams seriously and had even taken to dissecting them. Needless to say, she was worried about me, perhaps more than Jeremy had been.

"No… I am running through a dense wood filled with pine trees. I smell the earth, the grass, and the leaves. It's a fresh scent, almost as if it had just rained and I am running through a fresh environment. Everything is so green and lush. Then I wake up and I am tingling all over. That is when the baby starts to move. I get the same feeling when I wind up in Central Park. I don't know how, but sometimes, all I do is go for a walk and I end up sitting on the grass in Central Park. I feel happy, content, exhilarated yet relaxed. Then the baby starts to move again." Lowering her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, Carol's hazel eyes stared at me intently.

"Seriously? I think you might have been a hippy in your previous life." Laughing out loud, I wiped a tear from my eye.

"And you were a witch."

"Damn straight I was. My hair in the morning is enough to prove that statement."

"This coming from your aunt who saw things?"

"The proper term is clairvoyant… Hey… isn't that Jeremy's father standing across the street?" Stiffening, I slowly turned to look over my shoulder. True enough, Malcolm Danvers was standing on the other side of the pavement staring straight in my direction. His smile sent unpleasant shivers down my spine and I could have sworn I felt the baby tremble. "Do you want me to call the café manager?"

"Carol, what good could he do?"

"Alright… do you want me to beat him up?" Attempting a weak smile, I shook my head. Maybe he was just passing by. Looking up again, I noticed he was crossing the street and heading towards… me. "Okay Nikki, we are leaving and heading back to work. Morning coffee is over." I do not think I have ever seen someone move so smoothly and efficiently as Carol as she stood and ushered me up the street towards the gallery.

"Ms. Simmons" Freezing, I looked up at Carol who tightened her grip on my arm. Gently, we both turned around to face Malcolm Danvers. He moved like a predator dressed in a nice suit, smooth yet deadly.

"Mr. Danvers" I managed to say without lunging for his neck.

"It has been a long time since I received any news of you." He grinned his wolf-like grin, his eyes taking me in from head to toe, lingering for a few moments on my stomach. "It appears to have been longer than I managed possible. How are you doing?"

"Well enough until you decided to walk back into my life."

"Now now Nikita, I do not think that is the proper way to talk to your child's grandfather."

"And I do not think showing up to my work and harassing my co-worker while I am out a proper way to behave around the mother of your grandchild. My condition is rather delicate in case you have not noticed."

"Yes I have noticed. Have you been seeing the doctor regularly?"

"I do not believe that to be of any interest to you."

"True, but I am the grandfather and I am entitled to certain facts."

"Didn't Jeremy tell you to stay away from me?"

"He did, but remember my dear, I am rather fond of you in more ways than one." His gaze again travelled up and down my form. Feeling unsettled, I gritted my teeth and pulled my cardigan closer around myself. "Is it a boy?" His eyes gleamed with something fierce. He knew.

"It is a bit early to tell-"

"Ms Simmons, you are beginning your fifth month with child next week, I think you know what the sex of your child is."

"And if I do, why would I tell you without telling Jeremy first."

"So it is a boy-"

"No… it's a girl Malcolm and once she is born, I will make sure you will never be able to come near her. You do not deserve her." Straightening myself, my hand went to clasp Carol's for support. "Is there anything else or are we done here?"

"A girl?" Malcolm looked flabbergasted, amazed, and horrified all at the same time. "That is impossible."

"If that is really all that concerns you, you can easily contact my gynaecologist who I am sure would love nothing more than to show the grandfather of my child the blood works and the ultrasounds. Now let me repeat myself: are we done here?"

"You cannot be having a girl. You smell… it smells…"

"Like what? Go ahead and finish that thought." My eyes ablaze with anger and hate, I walked up to him until we were a few inches apart. I could see in his eyes that he was afraid of me and of my baby. "Were you going to say werewolf? Were you seriously going to say that my baby girl smells like wolf to you? If you want to remain alive, I suggest you leave before I get violent." Locking his gaze with mine, he nodded slowly. Malcolm Danvers backed off, turned, and walked away. I felt relieved and a bit giddy. However, something felt wrong.

* * *

Lying awake in the evening shadows, I turned over slowly to stare at Jeremy's sleeping form. Even in his sleep he seemed so sure of himself, infinitely masculine. Quietly and softly, I let my index finger outline his facial features. Yes, he was sure of himself, but there was also a soft innocence that was not present in his waking form. My finger brushed his long lashes, and his face twitched. Jeremy opened his eyes slowly and turned his face to stare at me.

"Nikita…"

"Sorry, I was watching you sleep." Jeremy quirked an elegant eyebrow and turned the rest of his form so that we were facing one another. "All of this is surreal. You, me, the baby… I don't think I have ever felt this happy and content before. I am afraid all of this is going to suddenly slip through my fingers." Jeremy placed a gentle kiss on my lips.

"Nikki, sometimes I think you worry too much." He patted my thigh, and I rolled over so he could spoon me. His arm draped over my swollen belly, tightened with possessive fondness. My stomach twitched slightly as the baby moved about. She was growing quickly, almost too quickly according to my doctor. The doctor had even asked Jeremy in private if I was taking any form of steroids. When Jeremy relayed the conversation to me, I laughed full heartedly for a solid twenty minutes.

Jeremy fell asleep again, his arm growing limp, but still holding me. After a few minutes, I lifted his arm, and slipped out of bed. Pulling on an old gray sweatshirt, I padded into the kitchen. I began to search for a large wax candle I had hidden behind my collection of cookbooks. My hands closed about the candle and I set it onto the wooden counter. Placing both hands on either side of the candle, I stared at the wick, concentrating. A bright flame leapt to life. My right hand dived into the fire. The flame danced sensually against my skin, its dance tantalizing. I had been practicing to light a candle with my mind and had succeeded only a week ago. Yesterday was when I mustered the courage to introduce my hand into the orange dancer. Fire did not burn or perforate my skin. I seemed to be immune to burns. The sensation of the flame against my skin was akin to a cool breeze caressing my body.

Removing my hand, I willed the candle to go out, and the flame died. Breathing deeply like I was taught to do in my pre-natal yoga class, I closed my eyes. Once I found my centre, I opened my eyes, and snapped my fingers. A small ball of fire floated above my hand, bobbing slowly. Ever since I was able to light the candle, I got used to the fact that I am not normal. What I am, I have no clue.

Peeking my head out to peer at Jeremy sleeping on my bed, I sat down on the floor. I cradled the ball of fire in my hands. It was a calming, soothing gesture. My daughter gently rolled around in my belly. She had grown very quickly, too quickly; almost unnaturally so. Still, I loved her. I knew she was going to do something amazing.


	9. Chapter 9

My fifth and sixth months of pregnancy passed by quickly without much disturbance. I continued to attend my prenatal yoga classes, to make my daily rounds of Central Park, and to visit my doctor every two weeks due to my father's insistence. My mother had had difficulties during childbirth, and he was afraid that I might be predisposed to the same "issues" as he liked to call them. Overall, I was enjoying my pregnancy a bit more and had to admit to myself that I was in better shape now than I had ever been in my life. Over the years, I had slacked off on physical exercise. Now, my unborn child was pushing me to be the best I could be for her arrival. I was even eating healthier foods and taking pre-natal vitamins. I painted less due to the acrid smells of oil paints and drew more. I was happy, and it showed in every part of my life.

Month seven hit me a bit harder. I had trouble sleeping at night and developed lower back pain. Yet, every time I looked at the sonograms or whenever I saw her move on that black and white screen, I knew it was all worth it. I could see her little heart beat quickly with such determination. From the images, I could tell she was going to be beautiful. My father was thrilled. I drove up from New York to Montreal to see him. I spent a lot of time with my father who marvelled at the small life growing in my belly. I waddled around my childhood home, and narrated every aspect of our small home to my daughter, my fingers tracing every piece of furniture.

I felt Zen and often sat in our backyard bare foot, toes curling into the soft, cool grass. I meditated often to the point of snoozing, and my father would tease me by asking if I could actually feel the ground moving beneath me. I smiled in return and told him that the only thing moving was my baby. She was restless and always expressed her displeasure every time I managed to sit down and rest. She enjoyed being rocked as I walked.

My father followed me everywhere with a camcorder. He wanted to capture every moment on tape. He was great with me and I was thrilled to have someone to take care of me when Jeremy was not there. My father came with me to my birthing classes when I came to Montreal or when he came down to visit me in New York. It helped to fill the void of Jeremy's absence. Jeremy was gone often and did not visit habitually. I sometimes worried if he had gotten wind of my conversation with his father or if being a father had finally impacted his reality. My incredible support team, my father and my best friend, often dismissed my worries. Carol insisted that if my man could not be there for me, she would be my man.

Carol came over often to have sleepovers. We watched silly movies and listened to Rick James' "Super freak" while dancing around in our socks. I was ecstatic to discover I was still able to dance a long to MC Hammer. We would either fall asleep on my couch or on my bed after having heated debates over the rich and the famous. Sleep however, never lasted long. I would be up and about around 2h00 making pancakes, lighting my gas stove with a snap of my fingers. Claudia would then join me in my kitchenette thirty minutes later, awoken by the smell of pancakes and maple syrup.

On a particular evening when I was listening to some Whitesnake and gyrating in thick socks and an overly cotton t-shirt, Jeremy walked in with an amused smile on his face.

"I leave you for a few weeks and this is what I have to come home to?" He asked, grinning despite trying to remain serious. My heart fluttered at his mention of my studio being his home.

"I will have you know that I am just as sexy, if not sexier than the girl in the Whitesnake video dancing on top of the hood of the car." I grinned in return, hastily piling my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head. "Dancing around like this keeps me very fit."

"I have no doubt." Jeremy replied, his eyes examining my firm legs and my now abundant curves. "God how I've missed you!" Jeremy took hold of me in a firm hug, pressing me to him as if he were afraid he would lose me. I inhaled his faint smell of fresh pine. I had missed him a lot too. I moulded my body into his, and captured his mouth with my own. We stood in the middle of my studio for a while; just exchanging kisses and I love yous that had been previously neglected.

"What kept you away for so long?" I finally managed to ask.

"Work and family issues… the usual. How are my two favourite girls?" he placed his large hands on my belly. Our daughter kicked back strongly in response, recognizing her father. "Good huh?" he placed a small kiss on my belly, rubbing it gently afterwards. "I am truly sorry Nikki for leaving you for longer than usual. My father is being difficult…"

"I am guessing he does not approve of you being with me or of our daughter." I stated. Removing his hands from me, Jeremy walked over to the kitchenette. The answer was simple: no his father did not approve.

"We had a heated argument and he might have brought up our relationship in front of the Pack… it was difficult to contain. The general gist is he does not want me anywhere near you and our child."

"The Pack?" Jeremy stopped in his tracks before he could reach the fridge. He turned to look at me in the eyes.

"A synonym for my dysfunctional family which often acts like a pack of wolves." He smiled weakly. Something was off.

"Right… so your father does not want me near you."

"Yes, but I kindly told him that that was not an option. I love you and I am not turning away from you."

"Ah…"

"I need a cold beer."

"You never drink… and I'm pregnant… I do not have alcohol."

"Right…" He rubbed his jaw and braced himself on the counter.

"Jeremy, are you all right?"

"Yes" another weak smile. Everything was not all right. From his description of his family, I understood just how much this act of rebellion meant. He turned his back on his family to be with me. He was alone now. All he had was me.

"How about I cook us up some steaks, we watch a movie, and go to bed? We can even insert a nice warm bath. What say you?" I asked gently, rubbing his back. His muscles tensed and released. He nodded slowly and took me suddenly into his arms. Jeremy buried his face into my hair, holding on for dear life.

"Nikita, that sounds absolutely perfect."

Jeremy needed me like he had needed no one else before, and I was there to help him. His need for support had nothing to do with him being selfish, but had everything to do with needing support. We spoke late into the evenings. He told me everything about his childhood, including how his father had always been verbally abusive towards him for being different. Jeremy was half Japanese and had never met his mother due to his father. I knew that family meant everything to Jeremy, which is why he viewed our own little family with such love and value. He confided in me his fears and aspirations, and I told him about my own fears. We grew close, closer than I thought possible considering our relationship. In my seventh month, I discovered that I truly loved him, and would never love another after him if anything bad ever happened. We rediscovered each other, and soon became inseparable. I often wondered if he would ever consider marrying me. Yet I knew it was a ridiculous notion. He had already left his family to be with me against their will. Asking me to marry him would worsen his betrayal.

* * *

I kept dreaming of running and wolves. I had mentioned this to Jeremy who simply stared at me with worried eyes. His feelings of worry became apparent during our trip to the Central Park Zoo. We had visited several animals while maintaining a healthy distance between the enclosures and ourselves. Jeremy is not particular fond of animals and claims to be allergic. I love the colours and their personalities. I wish I could draw all of them. The real problem came when we reached the enclosure containing a small pack of grey wolves. They backed away from us instantaneously, retreating to the far end of their cage. When I approached, one of them jumped at me, snapping at the metal bars. Naturally, I jumped back in alarm, arms raised to protect myself. Jeremy quickly grabbed me out of the way as a pair of zookeepers rushed forwards. They apologized for the sudden outburst. According to them, it was unnatural for these wolves to behave in this manner. I nodded, still in a minor state of shock. That was the last time Jeremy allowed me to go to the zoo.

It was not just the wolves that reacted to me in that manner. There were dogs, cats, and the occasional bird. Even the squirrels in the park stayed far away from me. I once asked Carol if I smelled funny. She replied that I still smelled the way I always smelled, like lilies due to the fabric softener I used. Yet, it still did not explain why animals gave me a wide berth every time we crossed paths.

Things kept becoming more and more strange. It is when I started to receive menacing phone calls and letters that I became afraid. Malcolm kept sending me threatening messages. What were more alarming were the messages I received from other individuals I had never met. I wanted to tell Jeremy, but he already thought I was overly paranoid. Plus, he also had his own family issues to deal with. He did not need to take on my problems as well.

I stopped walking home after 17h00. The sun would begin to set and once it was dark outside, I could feel someone was following me. On more than one occasion, I noticed yellow eyes eyeing me from dark corners. I was frightened, and I could feel my baby quivering on the inside. In moments like those, which were more often than not, I walked home as fast as I could. The minute I got into my building, I ran up the flights of stairs, and locked myself inside my studio apartment. My heart would hammer in my chest and I would thank God for the adrenaline rush, which had allowed me to make it up four flights of stairs.

It was only at the end of the month of August that I knew I was in danger. I woke up in the middle of the night to hear scratching and growling on the other side of my front door. I picked up my phone and called Jeremy who was back at Stonehaven to look over Clay. He answered the phone sleepily.

"Jeremy, there is something on the other side of my door. It's big, really big… and it's growling." I whispered, grabbing onto the baseball bat I kept near my room. My heart was in my throat. Jeremy was instantly awake on the other end of the line.

"Nikita, I need you to push you couch up against your front door, and I need to you get as far away from your entrance as possible. Lock yourself in your room, and push a cabinet up against that door. Do you understand? Do not go near your front door for whatever reason. Stay hidden. I will knock seven times to let you know I am there. Stay hidden." I kept nodding. Tears streamed down my face. I had no idea what was going to happen.


	10. Chapter 10

I opened my eyes to see Jeremy crouched in front of me, his hands gripping my arms tightly. Concern had been painted all over his face with a thick brush as he searched me diligently for injuries. It was only until he wiped my cheeks with his thumbs that I realized I was still crying. My entire body trembled like a plucked harp string. My heart was still unsteady, and the only think I could think about was the desire to get away. I wanted to run back home to my father where he would hold me, and tell me everything was all right. I would have to believe him because you have to believe everything is all right when a parent tells you so.

Clayton circled the room, checking for something I could not see. Slowly, after sniffing my curtains, he approached Jeremy from behind, his eyes trained on me. I was not sure whether to be thrilled or not that he was also here. My heart was still racing a mile a minute, and I felt a sudden wage of nausea rake through my being. I felt scared and tired.

"Is she okay?" Clayton asked Jeremy, also crouching down next to his cousin, his sky blue eyes analyzing me from head to toe. Genuine concern from Clayton meant this was really serious.

"She seems okay for now." Jeremy replied, brushing my matted hair out of my face. I was speechless and fear struck. I could not formulate a single word. I could not move.

"He was definitely here. He's gone now though." Clayton said. He turned, half towards Jeremy as if expecting an instruction to be said to him to be carried out. Licking my lips, I looked from one to the other.

"Who was here? There was no way in hell that that thing was human." I managed, gaining some control over my trembling form. Both stared at me. There was something they were not telling me. It was blatantly obvious and frustrating. "Who was here?"

"Malcolm" Clayton said. Jeremy turned sharply to look at him. "I am sorry Jeremy, but someone needs to tell her. I don't want you or her to get injured." He looked at me then with what could be considered remote fondness. "She makes you happy, and that makes me happy. It is about time she knew the truth."

Jeremy looked shocked for a short moment, but nodded after some thought. He took my hand and helped me stand. I waddled over to my bed and sat there, waiting for an explanation. Jeremy breathed in deeply and began.

"You know how you are different from regular humans? Hell, you might not even be human-" he began, choosing his words slowly and wisely.

"I don't know if I would necessarily categorize myself as non-human. That's a bit harsh, but I definitely do have exceptionalities." I looked at Clay then who nodded slowly.

"Nikita, there is no way you are remotely 100% human. Don't interject; let me finish. Since you are not genetically a full human being, you need to remain open to the fact that there might be others exactly like you, and some with further mutated DNA. Clayton and myself fall into the latter category."

"So you have a genetic mutation? Like… the X-Men?"

"Yes, it is what has helped us over the years, and what has kept us alive. My father has the same mutation… Nikita, we are werewolves." I gawked at him. Was he being serious?

"Jeremy… I think you slipped and hit your head… Wait; are you feeding into your own father's delusions?"

"Nikita, I am territorial, selective, analytical… I love red meat."

"So do a lot of people in this world."

"It took me a total of a month to fall in love with you. I am hardwired to find a mate for life. I've imprinted on you. Is this normal behaviour for a regular guy?"

"Show her" Clayton said, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. Jeremy sighed and nodded. He walked over to the bathroom and closed the door. "Nikita," My eyes settled on Clayton. "He really likes you, and I can see why. It is imperative that you listen, accept, and cooperate for all of our sakes. If not, you and your baby might end up dead." I really did not like how things were progressing.

There was a groan of pain from the bathroom. I stood up abruptly; ready to spring to Jeremy's side. Clayton stepped in front of me, shaking his head. Whatever was going on behind that closed door, I was not privy to. I was forced to wait. Five minutes passed until the shuffling and scratching began. It was the same sound that had frightened me before, but different. It was quiet, gentler. Clayton opened the bathroom door and I stared at what emerged from it. A giant black dog padded into my room, its tongue lolling. It sat on its haunches a few feet away from me, ears up and listening. From my basic knowledge of animals and my sudden unexplained obsession with drawing the canis lupus specie, I knew this was no dog. It was a wolf.

I peeked inside my bathroom quickly. Jeremy was nowhere to be seen, and his clothes were neatly folded on the toilet seat. I turned to look back at the wolf sitting on my bedroom floor. My heart jumped back into my throat. This could not be happening. This could not be real. The wolf whined slowly, and approached me. I backed away as it came closer. My brain stopped functioning at that exact moment. I could not do this. I could not. I loved Jeremy to no end, but this was beyond me.

"I can't… I can't… Jeremy…" I fought for words, but none came. Clayton's face softened instantly. He walked up to me and took my hand. The wolf – Jeremy –whined again. I could see the pain in his deep brown eyes, Jeremy's eyes.

"Nikita, this is very difficult to accept, but Jeremy has been dealing with this for a long time. He has been struggling with the truth." Clayton explained.

"So you are like this too?" I inquired. He nodded his blond head, his blue eyes earnest. You could tell he truly cared about Jeremy. "Why tell me now?"

"Malcolm wants you and your daughter dead." He said simply. Jeremy nuzzled my hand. I had not realized he had bridged the gap between us and that my hand was absentmindedly stroking his fur.

"Jeremy… Clayton... you both need to leave." I closed my eyes, feeling exhausted. I walked away. I walked towards my studio entrance, and I grabbed my keys from their hook. I walked out without turning to look back at the man I loved, or the little boy looking at me as though everything was falling apart. I walked out on both of them without looking back.


	11. Chapter 11

"You know, you should probably pick that up." Carol said, sitting on the corner of my desk. She smiled her mega watt smile, which faltered as I stared up from a file I was processing.

"It is either Jeremy leaving me a hundredth message about how he needs to talk to me, or his insane father who wants me dead. Should I really be answering my phone?" I stare at her, silence passing between us. I look back down at the opened dossier lying on my desk.

"If it's Jeremy, which it most likely is, I would pick up the phone and give him another chance. You don't know how lucky you are to have someone like Jeremy in your life who wants to be with you." Carol reasoned.

"You don't know what he did."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"No"

"Did he beat you?"

"No"

"Is he an alcoholic?"

"No"

"Does he have a gambling problem?"

"No"

"Is he stable and willing to offer you the best of himself?"

"Yes, but he lied to me Carol!" my voice cracks as I grab my box of Kleenexes. One more month of these stupid hormones, one more and I will be done with the random outbursts of emotions. I will be able to return to cool as a cucumber Nikita.

"Yeah, but he came clean about it"

"To put it lightly –"

"- AND he loves you. He is madly in love with you, is handsome as hell, and has a stable income. Yup, I can definitely see how he can be a problem. So he has a few skeletons in the closet, who doesn't? Hell, if I told every man I dated that I love _War and Peace_ and long afternoons in a museum, that I occasionally double dip, or that I like curling, do you honestly think they would stick around? Sometimes you need to keep personal things to yourself. You don't need to know absolutely everything about your significant other. That would be somewhat too intense. For instance, do I need to know that the sexy Aussie I went out with on Tuesday doesn't wear deodorant?

"Ewwwww! He doesn't?"

"Of course he does! He is the best smelling man I ever smelt. I was trying to paint a scenario for you." Carol argued, rolling her eyes. "The point is this: Jeremy loves you, and he has proven it time and time again. He has been by your beside almost every step of the way with this pregnancy of yours. Also, he had the guts to reveal an important secret to you. I think he is absolutely perfect."

I stared at Carol of a span of what felt like two minutes. The more I tried to mentally come up with strong counter-arguments, the more I failed to summon them. She was right, and I was in the wrong. If anyone should be accepting, it should be me. Jeremy accepted me with all of my eccentricities, should not I be able to do the same? I hated to admit I was wrong, and Carol could see it. Her telltale grin told me what my face demonstrating.

"Call him call him call him!" She said, thrusting my phone in my face.

"After!" I laughed as I shoved the receiver back into her arms. "After my 1 o'clock. I have Steve Crispp coming in to drop off some of his paintings. Then, I will call Jeremy."

"Because you love him and I am right."

"Because I love him, and you were right." I reply, standing with the file in hand. Linking my free arm through hers, we walk down the hall towards the entrance of our gallery and studios. "So, an Aussie eh? Are you planning on calling him back?"

"I'm not sure. Tuesday was amazing, but… I am playing a little hard to get. Especially since my last failed relationship, I think I deserve to be chased after a little." I squeeze her affectionately. She sure did deserve to be chased after. She was an amazing friend and one hell of a personal therapist. I hug her tightly before I enter the main vestibule to welcome my 1 o'clock. I have no idea what I would do without Carol.

"Mr Crispp, how are you doing today?" I smile as I approach a man in his mid-sixties, hand outstretched to grasp his firmly.

"I'm good. How are you doing? You look more and more radiant every time I see you. You remind me of my granddaughter. Have I told you about her?"

"Many times, but I would love to hear more about her as we look at what you brought in for us". Gently, I helped him carry in some small paintings that were part of a collection he was making. They were all pictures of his family, especially his two daughters and their children. He managed to capture everything from their rosy cheeks to the plumpness of their three-year-old faces. They were gorgeous paintings. The play of light versus shadow and his incredible use of watercolour were stunning. I excused myself momentarily to go retrieve a form from my desk.

On my way back is when I saw him. Malcolm was standing the foyer, staring directly at me. I could smell the stench of blood on him. Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted from my belly. I clutched myself as I was brought to my knees from the constant throbbing pain.

"Caroooooooool!" I cried between clenched teeth. My eyesight went blurry. I could not see. I felt cool and shaky hands wipe my eyes clear. Carol. Her worried eyes darted from me to where Dan was arguing vehemently with Malcolm, waving the telephone in his face. Mr Crispp was also staring at Malcolm, as were some of the other visitors in our gallery. Malcolm would not dare try anything in here. There are too many people.

"Nikki, I think you are going into labour." Carol said. I could see it was taking every ounce of self-control for her to remain calm. "I called for an ambulance. They should be here shortly."

"It-it's too soon-" My breath catches as another contraction rolls through me. This is not right. It was far too early.

"Tell that to your daughter. Apparently, she wants to come out now. She's as stubborn as you are."

"This is no time for jokes." I bite back, striving to find release between stress and contractions. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. "I hate men."

"Don't we all babe." Carol grabbed my hand securely. "I am here for you."

* * *

I will not describe the next eight hours because those were the longest eight hours of my life. I decided during the third hour that this would the first and only time I would ever be pregnant. I overheard the surgeons saying how my baby was struggling to come out, tearing me from the inside. Yet, they allowed me to give birth naturally. They thought they lost her at some point, but she came back fighting. As I said, the longest eight hours of my life, and never will I ever be repeating those.

Jeremy arrived somewhere during the fifth hour. I don't think I have ever seen him this concerned before, not even when Malcolm was stalking my living quarters in his wolf form. I remember a bunch of 'I love yous' and 'I am sorry' on my part which were met with 'I love you' and 'I am the one who is sorry' from him. I think I only truly forgave him when they placed our daughter in my arms. They said she was large for a premature baby, I thought she was the smallest thing I had ever seen. She was perfect. She had five toes on each foot, and five fingers on each hand. One hand grabbed onto my finger, squeezing tightly as her eyes scrunched up, her nose quivering as she inhaled air. That was enough for me. I was smitten.

They kept me three days for observation, and then released me to go home. Jeremy decided that staying with my father was the best decision. I had to agree with him. After Malcolm's appearance at the gallery, I was not ready to step back into the big city, let alone the comforts of my studio apartment. So we drove several hours, taking necessary stops to take in the scenery and to introduce our daughter to her world. Despite how young she is, I can tell she loves the outdoors. The minute we stepped out of the car, she would be overcome by a great sense of peace. If babies could smile after a few days of life, I swear she would. Her eyes would close, and she would rest her head on my chest, her little nose sniffing the air. Jeremy would smile, and take pictures with his Nikon. I was easy to tell that Jeremy was in love with her too.

When we reached my dad's home, he also fell in love with my daughter. He and Jeremy spent hours staring at her. I had to argue with them to let her be so I could breastfeed her. However, I could understand their enamour with her. Elizabeth. I spent my afternoons with her on the lounge chairs in the back yard. She had dark fluff on her head, a cute button nose, and beautiful almond shaped eyes. "You are your father's daughter."

"Yes, but she'll have her mother's temperament" Jeremy said, leaning against the patio door. Looking up, I smiled at him.

"Is that such a bad thing?" I asked. Chuckling, Jeremy walked out to take a seat on the edge of the lounge chair.

"Not at all" I leaned forward to kiss my man. "Thank you for giving her to me, but I don't think I will ever do this again."

"What? No litter of puppies?" A shy grin pulled at his lips, and I could not help but roll my eyes at him. At least I am learning to accept this werewolf side of him. It still catches me off guards often though. "That's alright, I don't think I could share my undivided attention with anyone else." Taking Elizabeth, he gently cradled her in his arms. Elizabeth grabbed his index finger tightly, sucking hard on the tip. "She will be a force to be reckoned with, our daughter. Nikki… I want you to stay with your father for a while."

"What?"

"I know you want to get back to work and to your place, but I want two months to scour the place out to make sure there isn't anything waiting for you when you get back."

"Like you father"

"Like my father, or people like my father" he said grimly, looking down at Elizabeth.

"I suppose so. How long?"

"Two months"

"Two months! Jer! We have already been here for a month, and I have things to do"

"This is for yours and Elizabeth's safety, please don't put either at risk." Jeremy said softly. Leaning his forehead against mine, he sighed deeply. "I don't know what I would do if something horrible happened to you and our child. Please?"

"I suppose, but only two months."

"I love you, you silly, silly girl"

"And I love you, you overly paranoid boy. I doubt your father will come after us now."

"How do you know?"

"Gut instinct"

"Well, let's hope your gut instinct is right"

Jeremy left that evening hoping to get a head start on securing things in New York. I hoped everything would turn out all right, and this was just Jeremy being overly protective, being part of his territorial wolf gene. Yet something deep in my gut told me this was not over. This was just the beginning.


	12. Chapter 12

"Jeremy, you have to go to New Orleans" I grinned into the receiver. "Yes, I know that I am still on maternity leave and that I should not be at the office, but I had to come check on things. I'm happy I did. There is an art gallery in New Orleans who saw a sample of your work we sent them. They love it, and they want to showcase your work at their vernissage." Cradling the phone between my shoulder and my ear, I leaned down to rock Elizabeth who was nestled comfortably in her baby carrier next to my desk. Gurgling, she waved her arms about happily. "Yes, she is right here with me. Yes, she is fine Jer. We have been back in town for a month and everything is fine. Nothing happened since last week when you came up with Clayton, and you know what?" Picking up my daughter, I rubbed my nose against hers. "I think Clay likes baby Liz. Yes I do, yes I do." Elizabeth giggled wildly.

Carol did a double take past my office, and decided to come in. Seeing Elizabeth, she grabbed her out of my arms. "Baby!"

"Sorry, no, I wasn't talking to you Jer. I was… never mind." I grinned. I often forgot that I could not talk to my daughter and other people when on the phone. I just ended up focusing more of my attention on Elizabeth. At four months old, she was already grabbing everyone's attention, Carol's too. Ever since we got back to New York, Carol passed by every day to see us. I knew that she really came to see Elizabeth though. Who would not? Elizabeth giggled as Carol rubbed her nose against hers.

"I love you baby girl!" Carol smiled ridiculously, hugging my precious child. Looking over the top of Elizabeth's head, she winked at me and mouthed _Jeremy_. Rolling my eyes, I nodded. Carol laughed softly.

"Your mommy is trying to get your daddy to be bold, and do something good for himself for once. Don't you think that's a good idea? Don't you want your daddy to be a big shot artist?" Carol cooed at Elizabeth. When I finally got off the phone with Jeremy and promised not to do anything rash, I sat down in my wheelie chair. A huge sigh of happiness escaped my lips.

"This is what's best for him" I mumbled, knotting my hands in my lap.

"This is definitely what is best for him Nikki." Carol said, sitting down in the seat on the other side of my desk.

"He's been absolutely fabulous since Elizabeth's birth. Jeremy has found every single opportunity to spend with me here. I even managed to go to Bear Valley."

"There you go! How is his nephew taking all of this in?"

"Clay? Surprisingly well. He watches her like a hawk and he likes to play with her, which Jeremy says is very, VERY strange for Clay. I'm just happy he likes her considering how detached he is from everyone and everything. Jeremy had to switch him schools again. He is worried about Clay."

"Bah, he'll be fine. He's a teenage boy, rebellion and angst is totally normal."

"So what are you up to today gorgeous?"

"I am off to see a fortune-teller to inquire about my future." Carol wiggled her eyebrows. Carol, despite being a down to earth realist, felt the need to visit a fortune-teller every six months. She joked about how it had to do with her grandmother being a supposed witch, and how she occasionally felt strange vibes. I used to laugh and poke fun at her for her outrageous ramblings about magic and fate, but after discovering that there is a complete other world of crazy out there, I became more lenient. I guess being a half-demon and being in love with a werewolf does that to you. "Hey, you should come along! Christine is a fabulous fortune-teller. She actually foretold that I would find love right around the corner."

"Uh-huh" I said, quirking an eye up at her. "Around the corner? That sounds… so not cryptic. That could happen to anyone. I am even willing to bet that it is a popular saying. I could tell you that you will find what you seek when you least expect it, and you could probably pay me the same price as you do your fortune-teller."

"Nikki I'm serious! She is good, real good. She was right about Chris and me."

"Who?"

"Chris" she smiled, blushing and shifting Elizabeth's weight onto her hip. "My Aussie who I met around the corner."

"You met him around the corner?" I stifled a giggle. This was precious.

"Well, I actually bashed into him around the corner. I was out for my morning jog in Central Park, I turned a bend, and charged straight into him." I laughed really, really hard.

"Oh Carol! That is fantastic! So I guess this Christine is not a total con."

"Nope. So please say you'll come! Please!" Carol pouted, imitating Elizabeth who could not figure out the locket Carol wore around her neck. I sighed loudly and nodded, the only thing I could do. I just gave birth, I am on maternity leave, I have nothing to do, and my child's godmother is already rubbing off on my daughter.

"Okay, but this is ridiculous and we will speak of this to no one."

"Urgh! You are soooooo boring. Isn't that right baby girl?" Carol inquired to Elizabeth. Shaking my head, I grabbed the baby carrier, and followed Carol out of my office and out of the gallery.

* * *

The place smelled of potpourri and patchouli. It was not a pleasant smell, nor was it entirely displeasing either. I had to hold Elizabeth in my arms to keep her from grabbing at random, sketchy objects lying about as we entered the shop. There were strange things floating in jars on shelves, dried plants hanging from the ceiling, and old books lining the walls on several bookshelves. I kept expecting someone to jump out from behind a shelf and scream, "boo". Holding on tightly to Elizabeth, I followed Carol who seemed to be very familiar with the place. It looked like a scene out of a horror film where stupid teenagers ignore the ominous look of the building from the outside, and careen into the store without a second thought before they get attacked by a crazy old banshee-like woman with long nails.

I need to cut back on my horror intake. Logically, I should just limit myself to worrying about Malcolm instead of wondering if someone is going to jump out of my closet. Knowing there are scarier things out there than on my television does not help.

"Carol!" I looked up from a strange sceptre looking rod to see a surprisingly young woman with crazy blond hair wearing a variety of different coloured robes. She screamed fortune-teller stereotype, but something about her energetic self did not fit the mould. "It is so great to see you! How are things with your young man?"

"Fine" Carol smiled widely. "I hope you don't mind, but I brought my friend Nikita and her daughter. I thought she could use some guidance." The fortune-teller's eyes jumped over to where I stood, eyeing me from head to foot.

"Yes, she's got some nasty auras hanging about her that one. Well, don't just stand there in the middle of my store, come on back." She turned around and walked through a beaded curtain, which separated the main store from the back. I rolled my eyes, but I could not help it. The woman spoke about auras and vibes! Elizabeth grabbed a loose strand of my hair and yanked playfully, bringing me back to reality. I followed Carol into the back room.

Christine, the fortune-teller sat down on a plush cushion on the floor, and invited us to do the same. The floor was covered with a Persian rug, and the walls had old tapestries and framed scrolls hanging on them. Yoga music, and yes I mean yoga music, played in the background. Christine quickly grabbed a remote from a small table and pointed it at the stereo hidden underneath a pile of fabric. Gregorian chant replaced the yoga music. Christine pulled out a deck of tarot cards and a small pouch. Snatching my hand, she caressed both sides, examining every detail. Flipping it over, she began to examine my palm.

"Hmmm… you have a good strong heart and a nice brain line. Your life line is nice and long, but…." Frowning, she squinted down closer to my hand. Pulling down a pair of glasses she had hidden somewhere in her big hair, Christine looked at my hand. "That's strange. Your fate line is strangely short, like if someone tampered with it. May I check your other hand?" Carol took Elizabeth from me, and Christine took my other hand. "Same thing." She said after examination.

Christine moved on to her tarot deck. Gently placing the cards out in front of her, she slowly turned each card over, one at a time. She walked through the explanations of each until she fell upon the last two cards.

"I'm guessing you don't usually have to explain the death and devil card to most people." I said sardonically, feeling a chill creep up my spine.

"No, not usually. There is a lot of turmoil in your life, that is for sure, and you are surrounded by fortune. However, something has turned everything around for you, and you will experience a great violent loss. It's the tower card that is more worrisome than the death card, or the devil card." Rotating her shoulders in their socket, Christine looked up at me suddenly, hazel eyes boring into mine. "I think now is the time to be very honest with me. Who are you?" Carole gazed at me confusedly.

"She's my friend, Nikita Simmons. We work at the gallery-" Carol began, but was cut off my Christine.

"- Who are you? Or rather, what are you?" She asked again. My hands twitched involuntarily, and her eyes shot down to stare right at them. "Aahhh, I see. Haven't ever seen one you before. And your lover? I'm taking it he isn't one like you." My hands clenched instinctively. "I wouldn't try anything in here if I were you. I've got tons of flammable products in the store." Carol looked at me, worry written all over her face.

"Nikki, what is going on?" Carol asked, still holding Elizabeth. Elizabeth, my baby girl who was still far too young to understand anything, was chewing on Carol's locket.

"Carol, we need to leave, now." I said firmly, grabbing my purse and my daughter. "Thank you Christine for your time and patience, but we must leave. I – we have important things to attend to." Storming off towards the exit, Carol in tow whom I have never seen so confused in my life, I shoved the front door open forcefully.

"You will die, and by the looks of it, soon." Christine's final words hung ominously in the air as the door to the store closed firmly behind Carol. We stood on the sidewalk for five minutes, staring at each other. Carol was white, and I had a feeling so was I. I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Elizabeth squirmed against me, feeling my discomfort.

"Fortune-tellers" Carol said with a weak smile.

"Yeah, what kooks!" I laughed out loud, but somehow, it did not feel quite real.


	13. Chapter 13

When I got home, I was not sure what to do. A year ago, I would have scoffed at the silly ramblings of a paranoid and superstitious woman with outrageous hair. Yet, my life had changed drastically since then. My world had shifted, and my responsibilities were no longer the same. I was a successful businesswoman with super firepower, lover to a werewolf, and a mother of a beautiful baby girl. Many things had happened, and I kept telling myself that everything would turn out all right. It had. I was happy and in love. Everything was perfect… until…

Death.

That one word sent chills down my spine. I could feel it creep up and down each vertebral disk. Goose bumps were forming on every inch of my body. The shivers were impossible to squash down. The only warm thing present was the tiny body I held against my frigid one. Elizabeth squirmed in discomfort, sensing my panic.

Death.

One word that held so much meaning and power. It was terminal, lonely.

No air, no heat… just emptiness.

The phone rang. I jumped and placed Elizabeth in her playpen before heading for the nearest portable phone.

"Hey there" a deep, warm voice murmured on the other end. My heart slowed down to a steady thump.

"Hey" I managed a small smile as I sat on the edge of the bed. I closed my eyes, letting the warmth of his voice warm the rest of my being. Elizabeth was chewing on a plastic key ring, eyeing me with big caramel coloured eyes.

"I miss you"

"I miss you too Jeremy. We both do. I wish…" I stopped myself. If I told him I wanted him here, he would come, skipping out on an amazing career opportunity. "I wish you have an awesome time in New Orleans. I have never been, but I've been told it is charming."

"I will. I am actually waiting for my plane."

"Good boy" I laughed, forcing happiness into my voice.

"We aim to please Ms Simmons" I could hear the huge grin plastered on his face. Jeremy. I love him so much. He was so kind to me, so loving. What would I do without him? He was my everything. Muffling a sigh, I stared up at the ceiling. We were both so young, and trying to figure things out. Jeremy, after years of being bullied by his psychopath father was finally letting his personality shine through. Something he had kept hidden under lock and key. Something he kept only for Clayton, and that he had decided to share with me. "Is everything okay? You are awfully quiet, and that is not normal coming from you."

"I'm great!" I lied. "How is Clayton?"

"He begrudgingly agreed to stay behind with Antonio and Nick. It was hard to convince him, but I told him if he was good, we could come down later to spend time with you and Liz. He has really taken to her. His eyes actually lit up with excitement when I mentioned camping."

"I would love that too" I did smile this time, stilling my hands, which had been busy playing with loose strings on the edge of a frayed blanket. "I'm going to run Liz a bath, but call when you touch down."

"Will do. I love you pretty girl."

"I love you handsome boy." I got off the phone; set it down on the bed next to me. A bath is exactly what Liz and I needed. I stood and walked over to the bathroom where I filled the sink up with a bit of water. Unwrapping a bar of dove soap; I set it down and prepared Elizabeth's rubber elephant. She loved elephants. "Okay baby girl, we are ready for our bath."

I scooped her up from her playpen, and gently undressed her before bringing her into the bathroom. Elizabeth gurgled with pleasure as I poured water onto her belly. She contented herself with chewing on her rubber elephant's ear. She nibbled on a lot of things, which at four months was highly developed. I squirted some Johnson & Johnson baby shampoo onto her bald little head. Peering close, I could make out a dark shape to her scalp. She would have her father's hair. I slowly massaged her head, and she closed her eyes in blissful contentment.

"Strange baby" I said, poking her round belly. She squirmed and waved her arms about her. "No pooing in your bathwater young lady. I can tolerate some farting, but you are clean and I do not want to wash you again. I like nice soap smelling Elizabeth Danvers, not stinky baby." I poked her again and she smiled a toothless grin. I swaddled her in a large towel and brought her back into my room. I dressed her in a footie pyjama, and zipped up the front when I heard a noise coming from the living room.

Scuffling, like someone was moving about and then a heavy weight settling itself on my couch. My body stiffened. I looked down at Elizabeth and placed a finger against her lips. She yawned and gently grabbed a hold of my index finger. The chill returned. Something was wrong. There was a stranger in my house. My eyes roamed my room in search for a place to hide her. My eyes fell on my laundry basket lying near my closet. I took Elizabeth and placed her in the basket. Her eyes drooped slightly as I tucked one of my shirts around her. I slid the basket into the closet, and closed the door. There was enough air for her to breathe. She would be fine. I wiped my hands on my pants, and walked into the living room.

"Nikita, I am a bit insulted that I wasn't invited to attend the birth of my granddaughter" Malcolm said, sitting comfortably on my couch. My blood ran cold. I did not know what to do with my body. I settled for crossing my arms under my chest.

"Jeremy and I did not think it important for you to be there. It was bad enough that your presence at the gallery triggered her birth." I replied.

"May I see her?" he asked, cold eyes staring at me, the eyes of a predator.

"No" I scoffed, narrowing my eyes. Was he for real? "No Malcolm you may not see your granddaughter. I wouldn't even allow you to see her if you offered me a cure for cancer. Sorry, not happening. Besides, she is spending time with her grandfather, her real grandfather, the one who doesn't kill people for fun."

"Really Nikita, do you think so little of me?" he leered, propping his elbows on his knees, studying me.

"Yes I do. I would think the same of any man who abused his son and harassed his son's girlfriend. Jeremy is an amazing man, and you don't deserve him."

"Deserve him?" Malcolm sneered, "No one deserves a snivelling child like him. He is a disgrace to my kind. Elizabeth though, she is something to marvel at. The first hereditary born female werewolf."

"You have no proof-"

"She reeks of wolf Nikita, do you honestly think we cannot pick out our own kind? She will be a force to be reckoned with when she reaches puberty. However, she needs proper guidance from family."

"Jeremy and I ARE her family."

"Jeremy is a poor excuse for a werewolf, and you? You know nothing of our kind, but I, I can mould her into something incredible." His smile could have stopped my heart if I had not remembered to breathe. I shook my head, red hair whipping at my face at the force of the shake.

"No Malcolm, never" my voice had a small tremor to it. Sadness overcame my fear, and I stared right back at him. "You will never get your hands on her, not while I am alive."

"We can arrange that" a sadistic smile spread across his face. A flicker in his yes, that is all it took. I dove to the right as he lunged towards me, eyes ablaze. I hit the ground hard, but used the momentum of my fall to scramble to my feet and rush towards the kitchen. Something heavy smashed into my back and I fell to the floor, head hitting the ground. My vision blurred for a second. I struggled to get to my feet, but Malcolm's hand grabbed the back of my neck, smashing my face into the ground. Stars erupted behind my closed eyelids. I heard something snap and pain blossomed up my right arm.

My left hand went out and I grabbed onto Malcolm. Heat spread down my fingertips and onto Malcolm. I smelt something burning; charred flesh. Malcolm's hold on me lessened as he grasped his burnt skin. I used this to wriggle out of his grasp, and run towards the kitchen. I grabbed a kitchen knife and hid behind the fridge. Looking down at my right arm I nearly retched. It was broken, and twisted at an unnatural angle. I saw bone protruding from my arm. Tears streamed down my face. I rubbed my face with my left wrist. Blood. My head was bleeding.

"Come out, come out wherever you are. I do like a good chase my sweet, but this is getting old. I can't say I appreciate being burnt. Why don't you come out so we can settle this once and for all." He leered "Don't make this more difficult, or I will need to employ extreme measures." Extreme measures… he would turn.

A grunt came from the living room followed by a heavy thud. Please tell me he was not changing. Please tell me he was not changing. How could I escape a full-grown adult wolf? I squeezed the chef knife in my good hand and inched my way behind the island. More groans escaped from the other room. I crawled fully behind the island so I was completely hidden from view. If I made it to the other side, maybe I could see what he was doing. Trying not to move my broken arm, I slowly made my way to the other side of the counter, making the least amount of noise as possible. My heart was thudding so hard; I could feel it in my mouth. Sweat poured down my face. Gently, I poked the blade of the knife around the edge of the island, peering at it in the hopes of getting Malcolm's reflection. I saw what seemed to be a mass of dark fur.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed, concentrating all of my might into heating my hands. I had no idea how powerful my powers were, but I had to try. Creating burns and setting things on fire with my mind had worked well so far. What I was attempting to do was much more complex. I tucked the knife into the back of my pants and gritted my teeth in concentration. Opening my eyes, I stared down at my outstretched left hand, which was taking on a reddish sheen.

"Come on" I mumbled, shaking it in frustration. "Please work." I blinked really hard. A spark formed on the palm of my hand. Again, I forced everything I could into that one desire: setting my hand on fire. My left hand burst into flame. It was cool to the touch, but I knew it would be scalding against any foe. I stood with difficulty, and walked into the living room towards my hell.

Malcolm stood there on all fours, a huge black wolf. His eyes glinted with a ferociousness I had never seen on anyone before. It is something you picture when you read a horror novel. He eyed me as I strode forward, right arm hanging limply at my side and my left engulfed in flame. I walked forward with my head held high, eyes defiant. Malcolm growled, hairs bristling.

"Malcolm, you will never get my daughter" I said, spreading my feet in a defensive position. He lunged at me and I dove to the left, but not before smelling the satisfying stench of burnt hair. I backpedalled quickly, looking for another device to arm myself with. Malcolm ran at me, and I threw my left arm up in protection, sending a ball of fire at his face. He shook his head, paw going up to brush sparks out of his eyes. He was becoming frustrated, and I was becoming tired. I grabbed the nearest thing, a vase, and threw it at him. He deflected it without difficulty.

Death.

He tackled me, landing heavily on top of me. I slashed at his face with the chef knife. He grabbed it with his teeth and wrenched it out of my good hand. His nails dug into my shoulders, pinning me to the hardwood floor. Drool dripped onto my face.

The last thing I noticed before my world went black was the colour of his eyes. Malcolm's eyes were not brown like I thought. They were blue, a cold steel blue. They were so unlike Jeremy's kind brown ones. The man I loved was not a monster like his father, and I knew Elizabeth would be okay.


	14. Chapter 14

Jeremy Danvers walked into the second place he called home.

Blood, so much blood.

He had called Nikita the minute he got off his plane in New Orleans. What he did not expect was to have New York's special victim's unit answer the phone. There was an incident back at the studio, and he was asked kindly to come back and identify a body. Jeremy jumped on the next available plane back to New York. His heart pounded furiously in his chest. _This cannot be happening_ played on re-run in his mind. Nikita was fine; she had to be fine.

His entire life growing up had not been easy. Malcolm was not a loving father, and the Pack had never been welcoming of him. The only person who had shown him any type of kindness was his grandfather and Antonio. His adoption of Clay was not intended, but a blessing. Nikita was something else. Never in his right mind had he ever thought that a woman would ever fall for him. Never had he thought that he would have had the daring to approach her. It had happened though despite all his father had done to him. She offered him something his father had never been able to provide: love. She loved him and she gave him the most amazing gift: a daughter. He could not imagine his life without her. Stepping into the studio, Jeremy felt as though his life had taken a thousand steps back.

Crime scene investigators were walking around tapping off certain areas while police were talking to neighbours. The floor was covered in blood, her blood. Jeremy could smell Nikita everywhere, her laughter, her smile, and her fear. Her fear permeated every inch of the place. Jeremy felt small and alone, a feeling he had not felt in years. Looking up from a pad of paper where Nikita wrote down her messages by the phone, a young police officer took note of Jeremy standing in the entrance, hands in his pockets.

"Jeremy Danvers?" the policeman asked, stepping towards Jeremy. Jeremy nodded, shaking the man in uniform's hand. "I figured it was you from all the pictures Ms. Simmons kept in the apartment."

"Yes, Nikita loves to take pictures" Jeremy said softly. He noticed a small frame on the coffee table of them two on a hiking trip. Nikita's cheeks were the same colour as her face, but her eyes sparkled like tiny green gems. It had been her first big hiking trip.

"You are also her emergency contact person. We thought you should see this." The man led Jeremy over to a large space behind the couch where a large white sheet lay. Jeremy stilled, his hands becoming moist. He had noticed the blood, and how everything in the studio was askew, but nothing had prepared him for this. "Are you ready? This might come as a shock."

Jeremy crouched down, and let the policeman slowly peel back the white sheet. Jeremy thought his heart stopped, and he had to force himself to breathe. Nikita lay on her back, pale skin beneath a dusting of freckles. Her red curls were matted with blood. Jeremy gripped the sheet, and pulled back further. He needed to see. Her long, pale, elegant throat had been ripped out at the side. Bloody holes were in each of her shoulders. Her right arm had been snapped at the elbow. Everything had been executed with distinct precision. Brushing a stray blood encrusted curl out off of her forehead, Jeremy looked up at the hardwood floor. There were claw marks, large claw marks all over. A few feet away lay a chef knife, and a bit further, a shattered vase. She had defended herself. His beautiful girl had defended himself.

Jeremy's nostrils flared at that moment. Malcolm, Nikita's blood was tainted with Malcolm's smell.

"We are trying to discern what exactly killed Ms. Simmons" The policeman cleared his throat. "It looks like an animal mauling, but we are still unsure of who or what caused her death. We also noticed the baby items in her room." Jeremy's heart definitely stopped then.

"Yes, we have a four month old daughter. Is she alright?" Jeremy asked, panic gripping his body.

"Well, there is no trace of the girl, but we did find a dog"

"W-What?"

"A dog, well a really young puppy. My partner loves dogs and pinned the canine at being no more than a few months old. It seems to be a cross between a husky and a German shepherd." Jeremy's hands stilled. He had not noticed that they had started to shake.

"Yes, a dog. Where is she? She must be terribly frightened." The policeman led Jeremy to Nikita's room. The sight of it made his heart break. So many tender memories in this room…

"We heard her clawing on the closet door, but when we opened it, she refused to come out." Jeremy approached the closet, and sat on his haunches in front of the open door. Placing his right hand out, palm facing upwards he waited, holding his breath. A little wet, black nose gently poked his hand gently. Slowly, a little black puppy walked out, unstable on its four legs. It was so tiny. It looked like a ball of dark chocolate fur. The eyes are what confirmed the truth for Jeremy. They were caramel coloured and almond shaped, a lighter version of his eyes. The puppy jumped into his arms, burying itself in his chest. Shaking, the puppy began to whine.

"I'll be taking her home with me officer, if that is alright. She has suffered enough and is scared out of her mind." Jeremy said, stroking the animal's soft fur.

"Usually we do not permit something of this nature, but in light of the circumstances, I think we can permit this." The officer smiled slightly, brushing his hands on his pants. "We are deeply sorry for your loss. We will be in touch shortly for questioning, so don't leave town. About the baby-"

"I just remembered, she is spending time with her grandfather in Montreal. I had completely forgotten Nikita had left her with him."

"Right, well, don't leave town, and we will get to the bottom of this."

Jeremy stood, puppy in his arms. He grabbed a rubber elephant from a desktop in the room, and walked out of the door, and out the studio. Gently rubbed the puppy he now had tucked away inside his shirt.

"Don't worry Liz, I've got you. We'll figure this out."


End file.
